MOSCOW, Russia – U.S. President Barack Obama is heading for Moscow for this week's summit with Russian counterpart Dmitry Medvedev. Discussions on arms talks, Iran, the Mideast and North Korea will all be on the agenda. Summit watchers also believe there could be the emergence of new issues including climate change and energy efficiency.

A wooden doll depicts the leaders of Russia and the United States ahead of this week’s summit.

What's more, the Obama administration says it has bigger plans for the relationship with Russia: it wants to go beyond government-to-government ties.

Touching on one of the president's bedrock themes, Obama administration officials say they want to establish a multi-faceted relationship with different parts of Russian society, Running concurrently with the summit will be what they are calling a "parallel business summit" and a "parallel civil society summit."

Some Russia experts think the Kremlin is not happy about this - but it hasn't tried to limit those meetings. Some U.S. officials aren't completely ruling out the possibility that Medvedev might show up at the sessions along with Obama.

Obama will also give an interview to the opposition newspaper "Novaya Gazeta," the publication for which murdered Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya worked. And he will meet with opposition politicians, including Gary Kasparov and Communist Party leader Gennady Zyuganov.

But don't look for Obama to take a page from Bush and rake Russia over the coals for its human rights record. Obama, aides say, is intent on explaining what American's interests are, not in preaching to Russia about what it should do. Experts say he's more likely to talk about human rights issues both countries face, like illegal migration and civil rights in the context of terrorism.

U.S.-Russian relations slid toward the abyss during President George W. Bush's second term over issues such as Iran, independence for Kosovo, the Russian assault on the former Soviet republic of Georgia and the missile defense system.

Critics complained there was no longer a structure to manage the relationship, similar to the Clinton-era Gore-Chernomyrdin commission. Now, Russia and the U.S. are expected to announce what’s being called a "joint intergovernmental commission," headed by Clinton and Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov. Russia expert Robert Legvold says, to be effective, this commission must be led by people "with a direct ear to the presidents” and with the "authority to crack heads."

 Former Russian President Vladimir Putin is now Prime Minister and protocol does not require a meeting with him - but Tuesday morning Obama and his wife Michelle will drive out to Putin's residence for breakfast. Most Russian and U.S. experts believe it is Putin still who calls the shots in Russia’s domestic and foreign policy. Russians call it "tandem" leadership.

Just before the summit Obama took a swipe at Putin, telling the Associated Press the Prime Minister has "one foot in the old ways of doing business and one foot in the new." Putin, well-known for his expert moves in political judo, replied: "We don't know how to stand so awkwardly with our legs apart... We stand solidly on our own two feet and always look into the future."

In the media, we often like to evaluate summit success on "who out-manoeuvred whom" or who was tougher, who didn't "cave." But the biggest threat to success at this summit is not likely to be the political arm-wrestling between the two leaders. That’s all part of the game.

The real threat could be the forces behind the scenes, some in the United States, many more in Moscow, who feel threatened by improving relations, who are more comfortable with confrontation, who see any "win" by the other side as a defeat for their own – what politicians call the "zero-sum" mentality.

BAGHDAD, Iraq - In Iraq, Santa Claus doesn't always wear red.

An Iraqi schoolgirl tries on her new backpack.

Major Eric Egland, founder of the nonprofit organization troopsneedyou.com, is dressed in camouflage, complete with body armor and helmet.

The U.S. Air Force Reserves officer is heading to a poor Baghdad neighborhood to deliver holiday gifts to children at an elementary school.

As he and his fellow soldiers load up several armored Humvees with boxes, Egland tells me: "We're going to deliver some school supplies that were picked out - not by bureaucrats, not by government, not by adults - but by kids themselves in northern California."

Egland's group is based on his personal theory that helping Iraqis also helps U.S. troops because, "when you give the locals the resources that they ask for and you improve their lives, they trust you and they will stand up for security and the new government."

We park the Humvees at the local military district headquarters and set out on foot for the school, about an eight-minute walk away.

As we approach, the headmaster emerges and warmly greets Egland. Inside, in the cold but sunny courtyard, young boys are playing a furious game of musical chairs, racing in a circle, brought to a stop by a piercing whistle blown by their teacher.

There are few girls. They stand quietly to the side, near the female teachers. As the soldiers carry in the boxes, then cut them open, the children stand in two rows, waiting for their gifts.

But it's not the usual holiday gift of toys. It's school supplies: colorful backpacks, pens, colored pencils and paper - along with some bright green caps and T-shirts.

The schoolmaster is thrilled. This is what the students really need, he says.

"Honestly, I don't think the families of these children can provide their children these kinds of school supplies," he adds, "and of course it makes us happy when we see the students happy."

As each student comes forward to get his or her gift, they say "thank you" - some in Arabic, some in English. Everyone seems to know the favorite English expression, "OK! " which they yell out happily and give a thumbs up.

When the gifts are distributed, the soldiers wave goodbye to the children, and we pile into the Humvees. We drive slowly through streets filled with traffic.

This is an old neighborhood, filled with an astounding number of small businesses, especially car-repair shops. Most of them appear to be doing a brisk business replacing smashed windshields.

I notice several children helping out in the shops, one of them serving tea to a street vendor, another sweeping a shop floor. It's midday and they are not in school. And I realize how lucky the children at the elementary school really are. Watch Jill Dougherty with the camoflage Santa

BAGHDAD, Iraq - I knew something was strange as soon as I woke up. An eerie yellow haze at the window instead of the morning sun. I climbed up to the roof and looked out over Baghdad toward the blue Bunyah mosque. It had disappeared behind a thick curtain of microscopic dust.

Dust clouds the air over Baghdad.

I had never experienced a sandstorm. I instinctively tried to stop breathing until I could get indoors.

We were about to leave to shoot a report on an Iraqi paralympic competition. "They can't go ahead with it!" I thought.

When we called, however, they said it was still on. So we piled into our car and set off for the running track.

On a good day, the streets of Baghdad are dusty, blanketed with dirt, crumbling concrete and assorted trash. This dust , swirling in the high winds, is lighter but more penetrating. It fills your lungs insidiously.

But, as we drove through Baghdad, I saw, at the most, two or three people with masks. Most were walking purposefully through the haze.

As we passed the Green Zone, where the United States Embassy and Iraqi government offices are located, I saw a man in running shorts and t-shirt jogging on the street.

At the running track the athletes were arriving, some missing legs, or arms. Many are victims of the war. In the distance, a loud explosion roared. The athletes and their friends muttered but quickly returned to more important things. Bombs, sandstorms – it's a nuisance but nothing that will stop them from competing.

Paralympic athletes train on, despite the dust.

But the storm, the worst in years, did shut down Baghdad Airport. The helicopters that roar every few minutes through the skies of the capital were grounded.

Back in our bureau everything – computers, cameras, monitors, desks, pens, coffee cups, my eyeglasses -was covered within minutes with a fine yellow talcum. There was no getting away from it.

In 2003, just after the start of the invasion of Iraq , a giant sandstorm blanketed southern Iraq. Some Iraqis began calling it "Allah's Shroud," God's protection from the "invaders."

To me, it's just as exotic. A sandstorm in Baghdad. Like Ali Baba's 40 Thieves, I said the magic words "open sesame!" and waited for the skies to clear.

BAGHDAD, Iraq – They live at Camp Stryker, part of a massive military base in Baghdad, in an eight by 15-foot military trailer with two single beds pushed together. When we stop by to see them the electricity is out. They’re sitting on a storage box, holding a flashlight, chatting in the heat.

But 27-year-old Captain Jessica Hegenbart and 33-year-old Chief Warrant Officer Brian Hegenbart - both Blackhawk pilots - say they’re not complaining.

They’re married but under traditional Army rules they would not be allowed to live together. Now, under a policy quietly introduced in 2006, they can –- if housing is available. Watch video report

“I think it makes it easier for us to unwind than some of the other folks here that don't have their spouse, their best friend, here to share that with,” Jessica says.  “It's harder to communicate over the phone and through email and that's something that we're really lucky to have.”

I ask Brian if his fellow pilots are jealous. “Definitely!” he laughs.  ”Maybe not true jealousy, but in a joking manner I get it all the time from the guys, you know! If I complain about somethin' they're like, whatever, yeah, your wife's here!"

But it’s no laughing matter to know up close the dangers your spouse faces. Brian flies infantry troops on assault missions against al-Qaeda in Iraq; Jessica transports military personnel. They fly the same black helicopters, with two gunners at each window, weapons ready.

“I don't usually worry,” Jessica says, “unless he's getting to the point that he should be home and it's going on a couple hours and I feel like he should have been home by now. So I try not to think about it otherwise.”

Brian adds: “I call her right when I get back in the office,  just to let her know I'm back, just so she doesn't have to worry.”

Back in their trailer - part of a row of the same white “mil vans” protected by concrete blast walls where other personnel, some of them married, live - the Hegenbarts show us the trappings of home: mini-refrigerator, microwave oven, a TV, Playstation and computer, all bought at the PX on base.

Their identical uniforms hang together on a coat stand. Jessica says that on early mornings, when she dresses in the dark, she sometimes puts on Brian’s uniform by mistake.

They’ve been married for three years but Army regulations still apply: no public displays of affection.

I ask them if they ever hug or kiss each other in public on the base. “No m'am,” Brian says. “It's hard sometimes but it can wait until we get back to the room.”

Watch video report on married military life in Baghdad