Siege of Sukhumi

(3 of 3)

As soldiers on the tarmac push the hysterical crowds back with rifle butts, Abkhazian gunners train their fire on the runway. Those who do manage to clamber into an outbound plane discover that they have boarded a flying morgue. The backs of seats are pushed forward to accommodate stretchers bearing soldiers too critically injured to survive the 35-minute flight to Tbilisi. What little space remains is packed with refugees who even wedge themselves into the toilets, indifferent to the stench. The situation is horrific, but now that the Abkhazian artillery has made evacuation by sea impossible, the only remaining exit from Sukhumi is this exposed portal.

Too exposed, in fact. Last week three planes ferrying refugees and wounded soldiers were attacked with missiles, killing more than 100 people. But even the blackened wreckage fails to deter those who are still trapped. "Couldn't they at least send cargo planes to take us out of this hell?" sobbed a woman on the tarmac, clutching the hand of her bewildered daughter. "Nobody cares for us at all. Nobody."

In the end, if the Abkhazians take the city, the entire country could be swept up by the conflagration. And then the word hell would apply not just to Sukhumi, but to all of Georgia.