- In the Baghdad suburb of Shu'ale: The piece of metal
is only a foot high, but the numbers on it hold the clue to the latest
atrocity in Baghdad.
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- At least 62 civilians had died by yesterday afternoon,
and the coding on that hunk of metal contains the identity of the culprit.
The Americans and British were doing their best yesterday to suggest that
an Iraqi anti-aircraft missile destroyed those dozens of lives, adding
that they were "still investigating" the carnage. But the coding
is in Western style, not in Arabic. And many of the survivors heard the
plane.
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- In the Al-Noor hospital yesterday morning, there were
appalling scenes of pain and suffering. A two-year-old girl, Saida Jaffar,
swaddled in bandages, a tube into her nose, another into her stomach. All
I could see of her was her forehead, two small eyes and a chin. Beside
her, blood and flies covered a heap of old bandages and swabs. Not far
away, lying on a dirty bed, was three-year-old Mohamed Amaid, his face,
stomach, hands and feet all tied tightly in bandages. A great black mass
of congealed blood lay at the bottom of his bed.
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- This is a hospital without computers, with only the most
primitive of X-ray machines. But the missile was guided by computers and
that vital shard of fuselage was computer-coded. It can be easily verified
and checked by the Americans - if they choose to do so. It reads: 30003-704ASB
7492. The letter "B" is scratched and could be an "H".
This is believed to be the serial number. It is followed by a further code
which arms manufacturers usually refer to as the weapon's "Lot"
number. It reads: MFR 96214 09.
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- The piece of metal bearing the codings was retrieved
only minutes after the missile exploded on Friday evening, by an old man
whose home is only 100 yards from the 6ft crater. Even the Iraqi authorities
do not know that it exists. The missile sprayed hunks of metal through
the crowds - mainly women and children - and through the cheap brick walls
of local homes, amputating limbs and heads. Three brothers, the eldest
21 and the youngest 12, for example, were cut down inside the living room
of their brick hut on the main road opposite the market. Two doors away,
two sisters were killed in an identical manner. "We have never seen
anything like these wounds before," Dr Ahmed, an anaesthetist at the
Al-Noor hospital told me later. "These people have been punctured
by dozens of bits of metal." He was right. One old man I visited in
a hospital ward had 24 holes in the back of his legs and buttocks, some
as big as pound coins. An X-ray photograph handed to me by one of his doctors
clearly showed at least 35 slivers of metal still embedded in his body
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- Like the Sha'ab highway massacre on Thursday - when at
least 21 Iraqi civilians were killed or burned to death by two missiles
fired by an American jet - Shu'ale is a poor, Shia Muslim neighbourhood
of single-storey corrugated iron and cement food stores and two-room brick
homes. These are the very people whom Messrs Bush and Blair expected to
rise in insurrection against Saddam. But the anger in the slums was directed
at the Americans and British yesterday, by old women and bereaved fathers
and brothers who spoke without hesitation - and without the presence of
the otherwise ubiquitous government "minders".
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- "This is a crime," a woman muttered at me angrily.
"Yes, I know they say they are targeting the military. But can you
see soldiers here? Can you see missiles?" The answer has to be in
the negative. A few journalists did report seeing a Scud missile on a transporter
near the Sha'ab area on Thursday and there were anti-aircraft guns around
Shu'ale. At one point yesterday morning, I heard an American jet race over
the scene of the massacre and just caught sight of a ground-to-air missile
that was vainly chasing it, its contrail soaring over the slum houses in
the dark blue sky. An anti-aircraft battery - manufactured circa 1942 -
also began firing into the air a few blocks away. But even if the Iraqis
do position or move their munitions close to the suburbs, does that justify
the Americans firing into those packed civilian neighbourhoods, into areas
which they know contain crowded main roads and markets - and during the
hours of daylight?
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- Last week's attack on the Sha'ab highway was carried
out on a main road at midday during a sandstorm - when dozens of civilians
are bound to be killed, whatever the pilot thought he was aiming at. "I
had five sons and now I have only two - and how do I know that even they
will survive?" a bespectacled middle-aged man said in the bare concrete
back room of his home yesterday. "One of my boys was hit in the kidneys
and heart. His chest was full of shrapnel; it came right through the windows.
Now all I can say is that I am sad that I am alive." A neighbour interrupted
to say that he saw the plane with his own eyes. "I saw the side of
the aircraft and I noticed it changed course after it fired the missile."
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- Plane-spotting has become an all-embracing part of life
in Baghdad. And to the reader who thoughtfully asked last week if I could
see with my own eyes the American aircraft over the city, I have to say
that in at least 65 raids by aircraft, I have not - despite my tiger-like
eyes - actually seen one plane. I hear them, especially at night, but they
are flying at supersonic speed; during the day, they are usually above
the clouds of black smoke that wash over the city. I have, just once, spotted
a cruise missile - the cruise or Tomahawk rockets fly at only around 400mph
- and I saw it passing down a boulevard towards the Tigris river. But the
grey smoke that shoots out of the city like the fingers of a dead hand
is unmistakeable, along with the concussion of sound. And - when they can
be found - the computer codings on the bomb fragments reveal their own
story. As the codes on the Shu'ale missile surely must.
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- All morning yesterday, the Americans were at it again,
blasting away at targets on the perimeter of Baghdad - where the outer
defences of the city are being dug by Iraqi troops - and in the centre.
An air-fired rocket exploded on the roof of the Iraqi Ministry of Information,
destroying a clutch of satellite dishes. One office building from which
I was watching the bombardment literally swayed for several seconds during
one long raid. Even in the Al-Noor hospital, the walls were shaking yesterday
as the survivors of the market slaughter struggled for survival.
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- Hussein Mnati is 52 and just stared at me - his face
pitted with metal fragments - as bombs blasted the city. A 20-year-old
man was sitting up in the next bed, the blood-soaked stump of his left
arm plastered over with bandages. Only 12 hours ago, he had a left arm,
a left hand, fingers. Now he blankly recorded his memories. "I was
in the market and I didn't feel anything," he told me. "The rocket
came and I was to the right of it and then an ambulance took me to hospital."
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- Whether or not his amputation was dulled by painkillers,
he wanted to talk. When I asked him his name, he sat upright in bed and
shouted at me: "My name is Saddam Hussein Jassem."
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