Mosul’s civilians run for their lives
Around a half-million people are still thought to be trapped in city along with an estimated 2,000 remaining Islamic State fighters
The war to drive the Islamic State from its last strongholds in western Mosul has come to this: With every advance by Iraqi forces, every missile rained down by coalition aircraft, a flood of Iraqi civilians hits the streets.
It is no longer a question of waiting between salvos — there are few, if any, breaks that make it obvious when to run, so the people of Mosul are simply running whenever they can.
As we traveled with Iraqi special forces deep in western Mosul last week, in the mostly residential Mosul Jidideh neighborhood, we saw desperate families start out right at daybreak. Families carried their young children and propped up their aging relatives, and they all moved as quickly as they could along streets where the sounds of battle were all too close: a cacophony of gunfire, the dull thud of mortar rounds, the deafening roar of Islamic State car bombs and U.S. airstrikes.
Nearly everyone frantically asked which way was safe for them to flee. One route forced people to file past a destroyed building on the corner of the square where fighters with the Islamic State, also known as ISIS, had been targeted the night before. One of the militants lay visible in the rubble near the crowd of silent refugees, his crumpled body almost camouflaged among the stone and twisted metal.
In their state of anxious flight, many didn’t even notice the corpse. But occasionally, children would gawk in horror as they were whisked past by elder siblings and parents.
Around a half-million people are still thought to be trapped in an ever-shrinking area of the city along with an estimated 2,000 remaining Islamic State fighters. There, they are caught in a frightening crossfire. As Iraqi forces have advanced, U.S. airstrikes have at times leveled entire blocks — including the one in Mosul Jidideh this month that residents said left as many as 200 civilians dead. At the same time, the Islamic State fighters have used masses of civilians as human shields, and have been indiscriminate about sniper and mortar fire.
Near one position held by Iraqi forces, a woman screamed out in horror after the loss of her son in an ISIS mortar attack, right on her doorstep.
Nearby, neighbors loaded those wounded in the same attack into the back of a small truck, hoping to get them to a first-aid station.
The Islamic State’s seemingly endless supply of car bombs has taken a fearsome toll in the battle. As we moved with the Iraqi troops into the neighborhood of Shuhada, scenes of immense destruction and the acrid smell of explosives bore testament to the fierce battle that had taken place the day before between Iraqi special forces and the militants.
And then, another blast, close to us. A car bomb had actually failed to detonate after being abandoned by its driver. The explosion we captured in a photograph was from a coalition airstrike called in to remove it as a threat.
On the corner of a main square in Shuhada, we found an ISIS car bomb that had partly detonated. The front part of the armored vehicle was a burned-out mess, but the back was still loaded with explosive canisters.
The charred and severed body of a suicide car bomber whose vehicle had failed to fully detonate sat on the corner of an intersection beside his half-destroyed vehicle. Another body of an Islamic State fighter sat in the middle of the road, splayed out on a wooden cart.
With heavy ordnance going off all around, Iraq’s specialized counterterrorism forces have been tasked with painstakingly clearing neighborhoods like Mosul Jidideh.
The Islamic State is not giving up ground quickly, and seems to be able to mount counterattacks everywhere.
The accounts of losses within families are grim. Mohammed Hamed, 5, and his sister Amina, 4, were hastily buried together in a shallow grave in the courtyard of a school in Mosul Jidideh. They were hurt at home by an airstrike that struck Islamic State positions at a nearby house, the family said, and died hours after the blast because the family was unable to reach medical help.
Friends and family members struggled to dig a hole big enough for their tiny bodies, interrupted by a sudden and terrifying new round of airstrikes nearby.
After the rushed burial, their mother, Amira, stood and waved at the grave, saying over and over: “Goodbye, my children! Travel safely to God!” The family quickly set out for the safety of a camp outside the city.