av malavel » mån okt 04, 2004 22:31
Har hittat två exempel än så länge av intervjuade somalier. Den första är en liten pojke och den andra är en somalier som sköt ner en helikopter.
WHEN YOUSUF DAHIR Mo'Alim heard the helicopters come in low, he grabbed his M-16 and quickly rounded up his 26-man militia. They had two bazookas, two RPGs, and a more modern Russian antitank weapon. They ran, some barefoot and some wearing sandals, fanning out in groups of seven or eight and moving toward the place where they had seen the helicopters descend and where the shooting was now fierce.
How Somalis downed U.S. helicopters with RPGs
The sky was infested with helicopters. Mo'Alim's fighters tried to stay together in the crowds of people moving toward the battle, knowing the Americans would be less likely to shoot at combatants surrounded by unarmed civilians. The fighters wore sheets and towels thrown over their shoulders to cover their weapons, and they carried their automatic rifles stiffly at their sides in order not to be seen by the helicopters.
But they were seen. The radio net was jumping with reports tracking them:
You got about eight or nine guys running up. . . . They do have weapons.
Be advised there are women and children in the area.
There are people moving across the street. As soon as you guys get off target they slide across the street hiding their weapons under their robes. They are moving toward the target.
Mo'Alim and his men were veteran fighters, guns for hire, mostly, although everybody in Mogadishu was now fighting the Americans for free. Since the United States had attacked the Habr Gidr leadership that summer and targeted its warlord Mohamed Farrah Aidid, the clan militias and hired guns had stopped fighting one another and turned on their common enemy. Some had begun calling themselves, in a play on the word Rangers, ``Revengers.''
Mo'Alim, a skeletal young man with hollow cheeks and a wispy goatee, had organized an irregular militia for hire from among the men in his village, a labyrinth of dirt paths around rag huts and tin-roofed shanties just south of the Bakara Market. Men such as Mo'Alim and his crew were called mooryan, or bandits. Sometimes they were called dai-dai, or ``quick-quick,'' for their jumpy nerves. They all chewed khat, a bitter green plant that acted as a stimulant.
Now, as the rotors of the circling Blackhawks beat overhead, Mo'Alim's fighters encountered Rangers in a humvee just south of the target house and Olympic Hotel on Hawlwadig Road. As they crept up and fired, a helicopter swept in over the rooftops and opened up, killing the eldest of Mo'Alim's squad, a 40-year-old man they called ``Alcohol.'' Mo'Alim dragged Alcohol's body off the street, and his squad regrouped a block farther south.
It was there that one of Mo'Alim's men knelt in the road and took aim at Durant's Blackhawk circling overhead. He dropped to one knee in the middle of the road and pointed his RPG at the back end of the helicopter, which was flying at rooftop level.
``If you miss, I've got another round!'' Mo'Alim shouted.
The man fired. The grenade hit the Blackhawk's rear rotor. Big chunks of it flew off in the explosion. And then, for a few surprising moments, nothing happened.
OK, technically, never. Touché. But I'm like Vader in the last 5 minutes of Jedi with redemptive powers minus a redemptive struggle of epic redemption which chronicles... These ropes itch.