Civilians pay high price in battle for Mosul

By the time little Amira, just a year old, reached the field clinic near the front line in Mosul, she was already dead. All her father could do was bundle her up in a golden blanket, carry her to a nearby mosque and bury her. When a Humvee pulled up to the door of the clinic, a young boy in the back was draped over a man’s body. “My father, answer me!” he cried. “My father, answer me! Don’t die!” But he, too, was already dead.

It was barely noon on Wednesday, and eight bodies had already arrived at the clinic, an abandoned house where medics provide a minimum of treatment, just enough to keep the lucky ones alive long enough for the hourlong drive to a trauma centre.

The battle for Mosul, which started six weeks ago, aims to evict the Islamic State (IS) from its last major stronghold in Iraq. But civilians are paying a growing price, with more and more dead flowing out of the dense, urban combat zones each day.

The carnage, along with significant military casualties, has prompted some military officials to second-guess their initial strategy, which asked residents to stay in their homes and rise up against the IS. There has been no uprising, and civilians are dying at home, all of which is fueling concern that the campaign could become a quagmire.
Iraqi authorities are also considering greater firepower. But introducing new weapons that may be more effective against IS fighters, like artillery and tanks, also risks putting civilians in even greater danger.

For now, most of the civilians killed are casualties of IS artillery and snipers, soldiers say. The rising civilian toll has ground the fight to a crawl, as Iraqi forces are unable to make substantial progress and protect civilians at the same time. The government is considering a mass evacuation, but even that might make civilians more vulnerable if the Iraqi military were to change its tactics.

In a bid to regain some momentum, the US-led coalition on Wednesday bombed another bridge over the Tigris River in Mosul, leaving only one intact. The goal is to prevent the IS from resupplying its forces in east Mosul, where Iraqi forces have bogged down.

Humanitarian workers, already fearing a siege of Mosul’s city centre that could drag on until spring, are drawing up plans for airdrops or sending food into the city on boats up the Tigris.

“What we’re seeing is terrifying,” said Lise Grande, the top United Nations humanitarian coordinator in Iraq. “The IS is intentionally targeting civilians, firing directly at them. Scores of people, including young children and women, are arriving daily in hospitals. Their injuries are horrific. The wounded are traveling for hours to reach proper care.”

She said that if the Iraqi security forces start using heavy artillery, “there is no doubt civilian casualties will increase exponentially.” “We cannot rule out that Daesh (IS) will push people into the firing zone,” she added. “The result would be catastrophic.”

Many are questioning the wisdom of the Iraqi government’s decision, before the battle began, to drop millions of leaflets over the city imploring civilians to remain in their homes. The objective was to avert a humanitarian crisis set off by hundreds of thousands of civilians fleeing, but instead civilians are dying as they are caught in the crossfire while soldiers make their way, house by house, through densely populated neighbourhoods.

“The problem is all the civilians,” Brigadier General Fadhil Barwari, a special forces commander, said in an interview. “I can’t use my tanks, I can’t use my artillery.”

Amid the chaos on Wednesday, as the bodies were flowing into the field clinic, Lt General Stephen J Townsend, the top US military commander in Iraq, landed in a helicopter to meet with the Iraqi officers leading the battle. One, Brigadier General Sami al-Aridhi, said that at the emergency meeting, the Iraqis implored the US to do more to target IS artillery positions and car bombs from the air. “The Americans promised us they would send more drones,” he said.

He also said the government should shift tactics and order civilians to leave their homes, even though in some neighbourhoods where Iraqi forces have tried to evacuate families, the civilians have refused, saying they do not want to live in tent camps. “We have tried so hard not to harm them,” he said.

At the field clinic in Mosul on Wednesday morning, trucks and Humvees arrived one after the other, carrying the wounded and dead. Medics said they needed more of everything — bandages, antibiotics, fluids for IV drips.

“It gets worse every day,” said an Iraqi colonel who gave only his first name, Khalil. “There are lost legs, chest wounds, head wounds. IS has begun to target the people.”

Adding to the chaos, groups of civilians fleeing the fighting are constantly approaching the clinic, setting the soldiers scrambling to keep them away, rifles raised, out of fear of suicide bombers. On Wednesday, one man, insistent on reaching the soldiers, stopped in the distance and raised his gown to show that he was not strapped with explosives.

Financial crisis
After a first stop at the field clinic, many of the wounded go to Irbil, the Kurdish capital, where trauma centres and hospitals are overwhelmed and running low on medicine and other supplies. There are also not enough doctors, and those working have not been paid for months because of a financial crisis brought on by low oil prices.

“It’s 24 hours a day,” said Dr Hassan Mercalose, 29, who works at West Hospital in Irbil. The last time he was paid was in August, and that was only 30% of his salary. With fighting intensifying in Mosul, he said, “the situation is going to get worse. I know that.”

On Tuesday night, nearly every room was full of civilians who had been hurt in Mosul. The halls were filled with patients on gurneys, awaiting surgery. In one room was Khalid Majid, 40, whose 5-year-old son, Hamoudi, was killed that morning in an explosion in Mosul and whose wife, with back wounds from the same explosion, was lying on her stomach and crying out for her son.

“This is the problem with the government,” Majid said. “They asked us to stay home and this is the result. It’s not just me. There are so many families.”

Upstairs in Room 218 was Rahma Idriss, a 16-year-old girl who had just lost both of her legs. Down the hall was her brother Farris, 42, who lost his left leg in the same attack that wounded her. He had a smile on his face and warmly welcomed a visitor, which is normal for Iraqis. Even under the saddest of circumstances, the hospitality they are famous for shines through. He said had he showed up in just his underwear, and had no pillow until a friend gave him one.

“We were brought up in great families,” he said. “This forced us to be generous, and to deal with people in a good way.” He said that even the foreign IS fighters who lived in his neighborhood were “surprised when they saw our traditions.”
International New York Times