Defiant Syrian City Braces Fearfully for New Assault
A deathly, blood-chilling silence hangs over the nearly deserted streets of Sermin, as a few remaining men await what they are convinced is an inevitable assault by Syrian government forces.
And this would not be the first for Sermin, just eight kilometers east of the rebel stronghold of Idlib that was overrun by loyalist troops last week, and not far from the Turkish border.
On February 27, 100 tanks blasted into the city, with around 1,000 infantrymen going from house to house summarily executing people, residents said.
Thirteen people reportedly died and another 30 or so were wounded.
The Damascus government does not allow journalists free movement around Syria, and accounts of what happens there are often impossible to confirm, but the story has been told countless times.
"A group of about 20 soldiers blew off the lock to my brother's house, dragged him outside and shot him in cold blood, then took his wallet, cell phone and watch," says Mashen, whose nephews show a photograph of their dead father.
Another resident says: "Their objective was to kill everything that moved, anyone who was on the street. They killed just to kill. They are worse than animals."
"A man who kills heartlessly and lies is worse than an animal," one resident says.
"Bashar has shown that he has no heart and is a liar," he adds of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, whose forces have killed thousands of people since anti-regime protests erupted across the country last March.
One resident recalls how it happened, as he mans one of the defensive dirt barricades thrown up in the streets, along with piles of tires doused in fuel that are ready to be set alight when the attack eventually comes.
"First they shelled with tanks and mortars. Then they sent in the infantry to finish the dirty work," he says of the eight-hour operation that left the facades of houses and businesses riddled with bullet holes.
Jadiya recalls how one rocket snuffed out the life of her four-year-old son Iyad, who had been watching from a window and was hit by a piece of shrapnel.
Tears run down her cheeks and she begins crying.
"They weren't doing anything wrong," she says as of her six children. "They were just looking out the window."
The silence of the room is broken only by her sobs. No one speaks. No one dares. Friends and family look at her tenderly, perhaps sharing the unspoken thought that she will soon have to bury another child.
But amid the horror, there was at least one gesture of humanity on the part of the invading troops, Abu Mohammed recalls, grinning timidly.
"A group of soldiers went into a house and herded everyone into the basement. Their officer gave an order for them to be shot, and he left. As soon as he was gone, they told everyone to start screaming in fear and then fired into the walls to make it sound like they had killed everyone."
Since the February assault, the streets of Sermin have been nearly deserted, with much of the population of between 15,000 and 20,000 having fled, many to safety in Turkey 40 kilometers away.
Ahmed says "everyone is expecting a new attack, especially after the fall of Idlib. We will be next."
"I am 50 years old," Ahmed says. I have eight children and am ready to give my life for my town. I have no intention of shutting myself up in my house while my brothers are dying. I am ready to fight, to become a martyr."
There are an estimated 250 fighters from the rebel Free Syrian Army in Sermin, but they are lightly armed and no match for tanks and other heavy firepower.
One of them says there are 40 tanks less than two kilometers away, and more in Idlib and another nearby town.
But amid the fear and preparation, people try to get on with life as best they can.
Women go from shop to shop looking for whatever foodstuffs they can find, though flower, milk, sugar and cooking fuel have long run out. Children scamper in the street.
Residents share mixed feelings about what lies ahead.
"No, we're not afraid," says one woman. "We all have to die sometime."
But another says: "I really am scared. We will stay here because our husbands are staying to fight and die, and we must stay with them.
"But we are afraid for the future that awaits our children. If we die, what will become of them?"
Source: Agence France Presse
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