Chapter 18: The Massacre

Robert Fisk's account of the Qana massacre in his book, PITY THE NATION.

They were the gates of hell. Blood poured through them, in streams, in torrents. I could smell it. It washed over our shoes adn stuck to them like glue, a viscious mass that turned from crimson to brown to black. The tarmac of the UN compound was slippery with blood, with pieces of flesh and entrails. There were legs and arms, babies without heads, old men's heads without bodies, lying in the smouldering wreckage of a canteen. On the top of a burning tree hung two parts of a man's body. They were on fire. In front of me, on the steps of the barracks, a girl sat holding a man with grey hair, her arm round his shoulder, rocking the corpse back and forth in her arms. His eyes were staring at her. She was keening and weeping adn crying, over and over: 'My father, my father.'

Robert Fisk is an internationally recognized journalist for the Independent of London. In his book, Pity the Nation, Fisk recounts the countless wars that tore Lebabnon apart. Chapter 18 of the book is dedicated to the Qana Massacre, where Fisk saw "more blood than [he] had ever seen before." To read the rest of this chapter, click here

 

 

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