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Hilla hospital cluster bombs { April 3 2003 } Original Source Link: (May no longer be active)
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2003/04/03/MN307348.DTLhttp://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2003/04/03/MN307348.DTL
Hundreds in Iraqi town's hospital
Wards filled with many civilians, some apparently the victims of cluster bombs
Robert Collier, Chronicle Staff Writer
Thursday, April 3, 2003
©2003 San Francisco Chronicle | Feedback
Hilla, Iraq -- This small city 68 miles south of Baghdad is virtually encircled by U. S. forces and is waiting for the noose to cinch.
Hilla is the end of the road for Saddam Hussein's government, the farthest south you can drive before reaching the U.S. lines. The bombs thundering in the distance leave no room for doubt.
At least several dozen civilians are believed to have been killed in the area in the past few days, and the wards at Hilla's hospital are filled with hundreds of bleeding, moaning patients.
But the ones who may be remembered long after the war sweeps past this place are those who appeared to have been maimed by cluster bombs -- the tiny, unpredictable munitions notorious for the toll they took on civilians in the conflicts in Afghanistan, Kosovo and the 1991 Persian Gulf War.
The Pentagon admitted for the first time Wednesday that American forces are now using cluster bombs in the Iraq conflict -- a new type that purportedly adapts to wind and weather conditions to improve accuracy.
U.S. Central Command said it is investigating reports that cluster bombs killed at least 11 civilians in Hilla on Tuesday.
Reporters who have visited Hilla's hospital since then have left with the strong impression that cluster munitions may have been responsible for many of the injuries there -- shrapnel driven into eyes, legs, breasts, brains and backs.
Residents of surrounding hamlets described a rain of the tiny explosives, which detonated either in the air, upon impact on buildings and -- most chillingly -- later on when they were bumped into on the ground by people or animals.
A 5-year-old boy named Nader whose right eye was bandaged was being given some candy by visitors when his mother insisted that he be left alone.
"He has to undergo an operation at any moment now," she said. "He may not be able to see again with his right eye."
QUESTION ABOUT CHILDREN
Pointing at six other beds occupied by youngsters with bloodstained bandages and bruises, she cried, "What did these little children do to the Americans? What did they do to Bush?"
Another patient at the hospital, Basem Hoki, a 38-year-old former construction worker, took a fateful bus ride south from Hilla toward Najaf last Thursday.
His left arm now ends in a bloody stump, and his left thigh is wrapped in bandages.
HAZY RECOLLECTION
Hoki remembers the passengers spotting a tank in the distance and pointing at it.
"It was about 500 meters away. I saw a U.S. flag on the tank. There was fire and smoke," he said through a translator, his eyes glassy as he lay in his cot.
Hospital officials say Hoki was one of only five survivors among the 35 who boarded the vehicle. "Many of the people on the bus were decapitated," said hospital surgeon Dr. Dhiya Sultani.
Like scores of other victims of "collateral damage" interviewed in Hilla and Baghdad in recent days, Hoki was unable to say definitively whether U.S. forces or Iraqi troops were at fault. Iraqi officials blame the Americans, while U.S. military officials say that such injuries could have been caused by Iraqi fire.
As a crowd of reporters quizzed Hoki, trying to jog his memory of events, he could nothing more than repeat over and over, "I saw the tank. I saw the flag," looking blankly back and forth at his questioners.
Up and down the ward, scores of patients who were injured in separate incidents also had imprecise stories to tell. Bombs fell, houses collapsed, there was fire and smoke.
According to the Iraqi government, 425 civilians have been killed by U.S. air strikes. The only neutral foreign organization currently in Iraq, the International Committee of the Red Cross, has generally confirmed the government's casualty numbers while declining to ascertain which side was to blame in specific incidents.
Red Cross spokesman Roland Huguenin-Benjamin, who has visited the Hilla hospital and toured the region, said the casualties here are "horrific . . . the worst I've seen in Iraq."
The visit to Hilla was organized by the Iraqi Information Ministry in an apparent attempt to buttress its claims of U.S. war crimes against civilians.
Yet ministry officials made no overt attempt to put their spin on the situation -- instead, the visit was remarkably leaderless. Journalists wandered on their own, spreading through the wards, collaring doctors and asking questions at random.
An elderly woman named Hamida Abed lay bandaged and still while a young boy nearby with severe bruises all over his body screamed uncontrollably.
A nurse said 15 members of Abed's family had died in a bombing: "She lost all her children, their spouses and her grandchildren."
Then the nurse's voice dropped to a whisper. "She does not know this yet."
Chronicle news services contributed to this story / E-mail Robert Collier at rcollier@sfchronicle.com.
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