I had been shot at, not once, but twice by American
soldiers after politely asking permission to transport aid to a hospital.
...
But the clinic had no disinfectant, no anaesthetic, and other vital
equipment required for the type of surgery the horrific wounds demanded.
And as a form of collective punishment all electricity to Falluja had
been cut for days. The clinic had a generator, but when the petrol
ran out the Doctors had to continue surgery using the glow from cigarette
lighters, candles and torches.
We spoke to the Doctors - they were exhausted, and
looked defeated as they told us the stories of their recent cases -
a ten-year-old boy with a bullet wound to the head, a grandmother with
an abdominal bullet wound - both the victims of U.S snipers, young
men with severe burns, limbs blown off and so on. But each time a new
patient arrived the Doctors quickly got up, put on a new set of surgical
gloves and got to work.
Many had worked for 24 hours straight, others surviving
on only a few hours sleep for days at a time. They didn't complain.
They are the heroes of Fallujah.
...
The Doctors asked if we could accompany an ambulance packed with food
and medical supplies across town to a hospital that had been cut off.
It was in the US controlled section of the town so it was not able
to receive aid because of constant sniper fire.
The Doctors figured our foreign nationality could
make a difference in negotiating the safe passage of the ambulance
with the soldiers.
It might seem a strange and unnecessary mission
to help an ambulance drive from one place to another - anywhere else
in the world it's a basic thing, but this is Fallujah and this is war
and nothing is as it should be, despite guarantees laid out in the
Geneva Convention.
The last time an ambulance went to this part of
town it was shot at by US troops. I know this because two of my friends
were in the ambulance at the time, trying to reach a pregnant woman
who had gone into pre-mature labor. They didn't reach her, but the
bullet holes in the ambulance are a testament to the fact they tried.
So we packed the ambulance with supplies and got
in the back
...
We drove slowly through the parts of Fallujah controlled by Iraqi fighters
then stopped in a side-street that faced a main road. We could not
go any further because the main road was under watch and control of
US snipers. They had developed a habit of shooting at anything that
moved.
...
"Hello! American soldiers. We are foreign aid workers- British, Australian,
American. We are not armed. We are asking permission to transport an
ambulance on this road."
My injured hand was shaking as I held my passport
now damp with my blood. I tried to work out what I was feeling: fear,
anger, determination. I still don't know.
We had only repeated the message twice and walked
a few metres when our answer came.
Two more bullets. By this stage I think I entered
a state of shock. I had been shot at, not once, but twice by American
soldiers after politely asking permission to transport aid to a hospital.
I guess the answer was 'No'.
Jo got angry. We all did. We stepped back to the
corner but Jo continued on the loud speaker.
'Do you know it is against the Geneva Convention
to fire at unarmed civilians and at ambulances?" she cried.
...
PPS: Some people have asked: "how can you be sure it was American soldiers
who shot at you?". The answer is that the area we were in was under
the control of US soldiers for at least five days. Iraqi fighters did
not have had access to the area the shots came from.
|
