The plaintive wail of the air raid siren sliced through the evening at around 9pm, announcing the moment Iraqis had awaited with dread: the definitive start of the war.
From the western banks of the Tigris, that source of ancient Mesopotamian civilisation that, while silted now, still defines the heart of Baghdad, the anti-aircraft guns clattered into action.
Streaks of red and white from anti-aircraft guns shot across the sky as the Iraqi soldiers took to their stations. But the attack was already upon them.
Fifteen minutes later, two projectiles hit the dome of what appeared to be one of Saddam Hussein’s palaces in a thunderous explosion.
The building collapsed in flames, and great billows of smoke drifted towards the river.
Unlike an earlier pre-dawn raid, when American F-17 fighters pounded installations on the western and southern perimeters of the city, the evening attack – though relatively brief – appeared calculated to shake Baghdad to the core.
At least two other official buildings were pulverised in a bombardment that appeared concentrated on the cluster of ministries strung out for about 1km along a bend in the river.
From the far side of the Tigris, with a clear view of the fireworks, it appeared that the Americans were sticking to their self-declared strategy of decapitating the Iraqi regime.
The campaign began only minutes before dawn, when US bombers struck what the Pentagon said was a meeting of the Iraqi leadership command on the western perimeters of Baghdad.
The attack – 90 minutes after the expiry of President George Bush’s deadline – was also brief, and by mid-morning Baghdad officialdom had bounced back from the assault.
Shabab television, which is controlled by Saddam’s oldest son, Uday, was airing pictures of defiance: commandos swathed in black headscarfs in the embrace of close combat. An announcer read out a speech from Uday – who, while sidelined for his younger brother, remains a power to reckon with in Baghdad – in which he raged against the enemy, and denounced the Americans as ”sons of whores and bastards”.
Barely two hours after the first cruise missiles were fired, Saddam Hussein popped up on television to demonstrate he was alive and well, and thoroughly in command.
”With the dawn prayers of this day, the criminal little Bush together with his allies carried out the crime they had been promising against Iraq,” he said, turning over the handwritten pages in a stenographer’s notebook.
It was difficult to read the expression on a face framed by an uncustomary pair of hornrimmed glasses and a black beret, but he seemed outwardly calm.
Minutes later, Iraqi officials rustled up the information minister, Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf, with uncharacteristic speed to demonstrate their mastery of the situation remained undiminished.
”I am sure they are stupid, and they will never succeed,” he said of America’s strategy. ”At the same time, this is a good testimony, a good proof that they are killers, they are criminals and they believe in assassination.”
They then laid on coach excursions for reporters, circling the streets of Baghad where clumps of soldiers waved their rifles and flashed the v-sign from small sandbag posts.
”You see, life in Baghdad goes on as normal,” an official said.
And so it seemed, even bizarrely so. There were fewer cars in the streets, and many shops were closed. Several couples strolled hand in hand, taking advantage of the lull in America’s war plan, and the closure of schools and offices. But at Baghdad’s al-Kindi hospital, the doctors knew better.
They received five injured yesterday morning – including a man and his sister injured by stray splinters from Iraqi anti-aircraft fire. ”When we heard the air raid siren our first thought was ‘here come the wounded’,” said a doctor on the casualty ward. ”But I guess the real war will start tonight.”
If it did, then the scale of last night’s first round of bombardments hardly amounted to the nights of awe that America has promised for Iraq.
Even as the sky was alive with tracer fire and smoke, a few cars raced across the bridge – a reminder of the last Gulf war when Iraqis defiantly refused to shut down while under attack. The lights blazed across the city throughout the bombardment.
By 10pm, the air raid sirens sounded again – this time to signal the all-clear. A donkey brayed, dogs barked, and more cars ventured into the streets. But the fire was still burning at the foot of Saddam’s palace. – Guardian Unlimited Â