They Are Killing Us All

A child is carried to safety amid the carnage that left more than 320 people dead at a school in the Russian town of Beslan, Friday, as a hostage crisis ended in a six-hour battle
YURI KOZYREV FOR TIME
Article Tools

Sometimes it is the gift of children to keep their parents strong. Elena Kasumova felt her hope dying as she huddled last Friday with her son Timur, 9, in the sweltering gym of Beslan school No. 1. The hostage nightmare was into its third day: many children had stripped to their underwear, some fainted from thirst, and others drank their urine. The 16 guerrillas Kasumova could see, mostly Chechens in their 20s, were by now tired and tense. The ceiling beams were draped with bombs. Some were hanging so low that the taller women banged their heads on them as they went to the toilet. From the bombs came tangled wires snaking through the tight rows of children and connected to two spring-loaded detonator pedals held down by the feet of two guerrillas. If either man allowed his foot to stray, the hostages were told, the room would explode. "Bear this in mind," one of the guerrillas said, referring to the Russian commandos who surrounded the building. "They are planning a storm. We will defend you to the last bullet and then blow ourselves up. We have nothing to lose. We came here to die."

Related Articles

So it fell to Timur to encourage his mother as best he could. He massaged her feet and kissed her. He told her stories about all the water and juice they would drink when it was finally over. "He was so good to me," says Kasumova, a department head at the school, of her son, who, like the other children, became a soldier that day.


LATEST COVER STORY
Mind & Body Happiness
Jan. 17, 2004
 

SPECIAL REPORTS
 Coolest Video Games 2004
 Coolest Inventions
 Wireless Society
 Cool Tech 2004


PHOTOS AND GRAPHICS
 At The Epicenter
 Paths to Pleasure
 Quotes of the Week
 This Week's Gadget
 Cartoons of the Week


MORE STORIES
Advisor: Rove Warrior
The Bushes: Family Dynasty
Klein: Benneton Ad Presidency


CNN.com: Latest News

Just after 1 p.m. the explosions came. "A wave of burning hot air hit me," Kasumova says. "I saw two severed legs lying next to me." Through the smoke, she saw children climbing out a window. She and Timur clambered through the opening and ran. "The guerrillas opened fire on us, and I saw one child go down and then another."

Russian special forces returned the rebel fire, joined by armed locals — frantic fathers and uncles who, one general said, "got in the way." The first explosions were followed by more, until the roof of the gymnasium collapsed. Half-naked children, some burned or bleeding, streamed out of the school as helicopters directed fire at the building. Some terrorists escaped, according to police, after swapping their camouflage uniforms for warm-up suits. In the mayhem, one young woman who made it to safety, shocked and disheveled, wailed, "They are killing us all!"

By the time it was over, more than 300 hostages had died, and more may lie buried in the rubble. The massacre was the most ghastly episode in a terrorist spree that has shattered public confidence in the government of Russian President Vladimir Putin, who had built an image as a leader whose uncompromising toughness could bring security to Russians. For more than a decade, the Kremlin has waged a brutal war to prevent the secession of the republic of Chechnya. But it has done little to defuse the lethal determination of Chechen terrorists, who Moscow says have links to Islamic fundamentalist groups, including al-Qaeda.

The latest terrorist onslaught began two weeks ago with some 150 rebels briefly taking over two districts of Grozny, the Chechen capital, and killing at least 120. Three days later, a blast at a Moscow bus stop injured four. The explosion of two passenger planes the same day, believed to be the work of two Chechen suicide bombers, left 90 dead, and finally, on Aug. 31, a woman blew herself up outside a busy Moscow metro station, killing eight others.

That was all a mere prelude to the atrocity that began the next day. For the first day of school in Beslan, a midsize town of 30,000 located about 900 miles from Moscow, parents brought snacks for the children. Students brought flowers for their teachers, and some carried balloons. They were just lining up in the schoolyard when dozens of men in black ski masks and camouflage appeared. "This is a seizure!" they shouted, as panicked families tried to flee. A few lucky children hid behind heating-system boilers and got away; the rest were herded into the gym. When a parent tried to calm the families down, a guerrilla walked over, put his assault rifle to the man's head and killed him. The guerrillas ordered some girls to clean up the blood.