The American military can’t lose a war in Iraq, although the American president might lose ground in his effort to maintain public support for long-term fighting overseas.

Why? Because of the widening mismatch between rhetoric at home and observed results in Iraq. Put simply, if the White House keeps insisting we’ve won, even as Americans are still dying, the credibility canyon will eventually swallow Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Two American soldiers were kidnapped and found dead Saturday near Baghdad — and some 60 Americans have been killed in the two months since President Bush declared, on the deck of that photo-oppy aircraft carrier: “Mission Accomplished.”

The story of those two missing Americans, Sgt. Gladimir Philippe and Pvt. Kevin Ott, might possibly have been another Jessica Lynch-type story of rescue. But, instead of a dramatic redemption, it ended in tragedy.

But Philippe and Ott’s lonely deaths, lost in the wilds just north of Baghdad, struck home with me because of an incident I witnessed, on the mean streets of Al-Kut, Iraq, less than two weeks ago.

I was accompanying Lt. Col. David Couvillon as he showed me around the city of some 380,000. In normal life, Couvillon is a Medicare administrator in Baton Rouge, La. But now, activated from the reserves, he’s the military governor of Wassit province, which includes Al-Kut, about 150 miles southeast of Baghdad.

His casual courage, along with the spontaneous teamwork of his Marines, reminded me that every day Americans in Iraq are putting their lives on the line, for the sake of their mission, for the sake of each other. It would be a shame if their story weren’t told — to remind folks back home of what’s happening and to encourage armchair warriors in Washington to speak more honestly about what’s ahead. What’s ahead, most likely, is more guerrilla resistance; the final victory parade will have to wait.

Couvillon wants to show a friendly face to the Iraqis. He’s mindful of the dangers, but he knows that the whole American mission in Iraq is for naught if we can’t win some hearts and minds. So we drive to the edge of downtown Al-Kut in two Humvees, and then we get out and walk. Couvillon is unarmed and unarmored, although he is escorted by two fully equipped Marines, Sgt. Jason Dean of Port Orchard, Wash., and Lance Cpl. Chad Skinner of Shreveport, La., to provide security.

Soon, Couvillon and his Iraqi translator are surrounded by Iraqis. That’s Couvillon’s plan: to meet and greet, to offer some words of encouragement, maybe to pick up some intelligence from the Al-Kut rumor mill.

In the meantime, Skinner walks 10 yards ahead, and Dean walks 10 yards behind. They have to deal with the kids who want to get up close to the foreigners, touch their uniforms, gaze at their M-16s. It can be a little distracting, and being distracted is not such a good idea.

After about an hour of wandering around, Dean tells Couvillon, “Sir, we’re getting out of radio range.” That is, the radio that Dean is carrying can no longer reach the base position. Couvillon responds, “We’ll just walk around this corner and head back.” Which is to say, we’ll be out of radio range for a while longer.

I ask Dean about being out of range. “Not a problem,” he replies. I worry: What do you mean? You said we were out of radio range some time back, and now we’ve gone even farther.

Yes, that’s true, but “Leviker is a relay.” By that, Dean means a third Marine, Lance Cpl. Paul Leviker of Schenectady, N.Y., has sortied away from the Humvees and into the streets of Al-Kut by himself, so that he can serve as a human relay between Dean’s radio and the Humvee’s radio. By standing equidistant between Couvillon’s party and the Humvees, Leviker and his radio have become, in effect, a human antenna. Of course, in doing so, in standing alone in the middle of an Al-Kut street, easy prey to any Iraqi who wishes to take the first shot, or make the first kidnap attempt.

I ask Dean, the ranking Marine in Couvillon’s personal detail, if he ordered Leviker to do that. He looks at me patiently and says that no order has been given, because no order is needed. That’s the way things work in the Corps, he informs me.

Happily, nothing happens to any of us.

Later, I ask Couvillon about Leviker’s move. “Marines care about other Marines,” he answers simply. And others, too, I think.

Military experts say that one of the keys to winning a war is small-unit cohesion. That is, if warriors can operate as a team, trusting each other to complete their various missions, then they can defeat a less organized foe, even if more numerous.

Military historian Victor Davis Hanson traces this Western military superiority back to the ancient Greeks. He notes that even in 5th century B.C., the Greeks fought differently from their adversaries. “A sense of personal freedom, superior discipline, matchless weapons, egalitarian camaraderie, individual initiative, constant tactical adaptation and flexibility,” Hanson explains. So Leviker, acting on his own, was in a long, courageous and successful tradition.

But, of course, there will be casualties along the way, as more brave warriors end up like Philippe and Ott, and not like Leviker — or Jessica Lynch. There’s the bloody rub. The American military can handle what’s ahead, but Americans on the homefront are ill-prepared for what’s happening now. The White House has appeared to believe its own propaganda, namely, that the “liberation” of Iraq would be a “cakewalk.” Much of what Americans were told about the war — we’d find weapons of mass destruction, we’d be met with jubilation, Iraqi democracy was just around the corner –has been disproved.

No wonder that disillusion has set in.

Sooner or later, Bush is going to have to go on television and level with the American people. He will have to eat some of his happy-talking spin-words and tell the truth: There’s a lot more blood, sweat and tears ahead. That’s the least that Bush owes to those who are bleeding and sweating — and to their relatives back home, who might be in tears.

James Pinkerton is a Newsday columnist.