Editor's Note: In our Behind the Scenes series, CNN correspondents share their experiences in covering news and analyze the stories behind the events. CNN's Jonathan Wald reports on a U.S. sergeant who helps Iraqi businesses with much-needed cash.

Sgt. Grant Ray's role has changed from combat to an attempt to rebuild Iraq's economy.

TAJI, Iraq (CNN) -- In Iraq, even being a Good Samaritan can prove deadly.

Before heading back to base, the 25th Infantry Division platoon must complete a patrol along Route Tampa. Tampa is the code name for a well-traveled convoy route between Balad and Baghdad.

Coalition vehicles are regularly on the road and often the target for insurgents. So it surprised everyone when the only incident we came across was a traffic accident. A tire burst on a truck carrying cigarettes and butane lighters. The truck flipped, and much of the merchandise spilled out and caught fire.

Another driver, seeing a man trapped in the overturned vehicle surrounded by flames, pulled over and ran to help release him.

Iraqi Army members converged on the scene as the butane lighters began to burst in the heat. Believing the sound to be gunfire coming from the man running toward the truck, they shot him in the face, killing him instantly.

The man in the overturned truck survived with minor injuries. It turned out he, too, was an Iraqi Army captain. "It just goes to show," a soldier says to me, "how easily and quickly things can get out of control here."

The platoon from Camp Taji, a U.S. military base about 20 miles north of Baghdad, was accompanying Sgt. First Class Grant Ray. CNN first caught up with Ray at his U.S.-based barracks in 2004, back when he was Staff Sgt. Ray. He had just returned from his first tour of duty in Iraq, during which he was part of Thunder Run, the coalition's charge across the Iraqi desert to strike Baghdad.

Ray lost the tops of two fingers and almost his life when a routine patrol turned deadly and he was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade. Three of his comrades were killed in the ambush, and Ray earned a medal for bravery in recovering their bodies.

Five years later, Ray's role is radically different -- moving from combat in 2003 to an attempt to rebuild a shattered economy. He's something of a contradiction. "I work non-lethal effects along with lethal effects into our area of responsibility," Ray explains. He is armed and ready to kill at all times, but his main purpose is to hand out "microgrants" of $50 to $5,000 to support Iraqi businesses.

Platoon leaders return from the field and suggest businesses to Ray that they feel deserve his and ultimately the American taxpayer's money. Ray assesses the different needs, calculates how much it costs to fulfill them and seeks financial approval from his commander. He acts as a consultant and a bank -- except to carry out his work, Ray must be under the protection of about 20 soldiers.

Armed with an M-4 and a black nylon briefcase filled with cash, Ray ventures out in the back of a Stryker armored vehicle into territory that straddles the Sunni-Shia divide. A year and a half ago, coalition troops in the region suffered heavy casualties amid 150 attacks a week. Today, the number has dwindled to the point where Ray can do his job. Watch a profile of Ray »

Main roads and then dust tracks lead to the village of Rikia, made up of about 500 Shia and 300 Sunnis. Ray and his security detail pile out of the Strykers to be greeted by Adnan, a local sheikh. Adnan is a modest-looking man in his 50s with perfectly pressed trousers and a striped, short-sleeved shirt. Waste and colorful plastic bags cover the neighboring fields as if they were placed there for decoration.

The first stop is Nasser, the butcher. Soldiers shoo away gathering children. "Imshi!" ("Go!" in Arabic) they snap, mindful that any crowd is a tempting target for an attacker. Nasser's butcher shop is a small, windowless shack with a table. Flies hover above a patch of dried blood on top of a tree stump that serves as Nasser's cutting board.

Business at the butcher's is brisk. Speaking through a translator, Ray asks Nasser to sign contracts in Arabic and English, before dispensing $1,100 from his case to pay for a generator and fridge. Nasser, a 42-year-old father of eight, is beside himself. "I need that money so bad," he says. "I'll have a fridge, I'll have a freezer, I used to sell the meat for eight dollars, now I'm going to sell it for seven dollars, and they're all going to come here and buy clean meat."

Ray moves over the road to the village pharmacy and asks for Wassan Hussein. The pharmacist, a woman in her 40s with a neat head scarf, raises her hand. Ray counts out $1,515 for Wassan to pay for shelves, a fridge and a generator. It's not enough. She also wants a patient table and air conditioning. Ray says he will put in a request but cannot make any guarantees.

Everyone has a need in Rikia. An elderly woman pleads with a soldier to help funnel water from a neighboring field to her home. Children beg for candy. Some are more ambitious than others. "Give me this," a girl demands, pointing to a soldier's binoculars. "Give me that," a boy says as he eyes up the soldier's penknife. The gunner on a Stryker showers the ground with handfuls of chocolates. A dozen children flock to the sweets like pigeons to scattered bread crumbs.

Nasser the butcher needs something else, too. He leads the soldiers to two of his children, a young girl holding a younger boy. As she places the boy on the ground, he falls backward.

"He can't walk, he's sick," Nasser says.

"I can't fix that," a soldier replies.

The cash Ray doles out is part of a program authorized by the U.S. Congress to give American commanders across Iraq discretionary spending power for relief to Iraqi communities.

When Ray returned from Rikia he declared his mission a success. Yet even he admits the system is imperfect. Ray says his microgrants benefit the Iraqi economy, but he also says about 10 percent of the money handed out is used to buy weapons to attack him and other troops.

Ray hopes businesses gain the impetus they need to flourish. He fears a rise in violence could make the work he does impossible.

"I can't see it lasting for a long period of time, especially if it does flare up again," Ray says. "How much can we do to help them, if they don't want the help? Or if they're saying they want the help just because they want the money to buy bombs or rockets?"

For the time being Ray's role continues to be non-lethal. But in a place where things can get out of control so easily and so quickly, he could easily and quickly become lethal again. E-mail to a friend

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