A Gaza Hospital

Taghreed El-Khodary, writing for the New York Times from Gaza. I feel compelled to repost in its entirety, rather than just link. No commentary necessary, even possible, on this.

GAZA — The emergency room at Shifa Hospital is never calm but on Thursday, the 13th day of Israel’s assault on Gaza, it was a scene of gore and despair and a lesson in the way ordinary people are squeezed between suicidal fighters and Israel's military.

Dr. Awni al-Jaru, 37, a surgeon at the hospital, rushed in from his home in the Gaza City neighborhood of Toufah, dressed in his scrubs. But he came not to work. His head was bleeding and his daughter’s jaw was broken.

Hamas militants, he said, next to his apartment building had fired mortar and rocket rounds. Israel fired back with enormous power, and his apartment was hit. His wife, Albina, originally from Ukraine, was killed, as was his 1-year-old son.

“My son has been turned into pieces,” he cried. “My wife was cut in half. I had to leave her body at home.” Since Albina was a foreigner, she could have left Gaza in recent days with her children. But, Dr. Jaru lamented, she refused, saying she would not leave her husband.

Within minutes, another car pulled up containing four more patients.

One of them was a 21-year-old man with shrapnel in his left leg demanding quick treatment. He turned out to be a militant with Islamic Jihad. He was smiling a big smile.

“Hurry, I must get back so I can keep fighting,” he told the doctors and anyone else who would listen.

He was told there were more serious cases than his and he needed to wait his turn. But he insisted. “We are fighting the Israelis,” he said. “When we fire we run but they hit back so fast. We run into the houses to get away.” He continued smiling.

“Why are you so happy?” someone asked. “Look around you.”

A girl who was maybe 18 was screaming from pain as a surgeon removed shrapnel from her leg. An elderly man was soaked in blood. A child who was a few weeks old and slightly injured was looking around helplessly. A man with a head injury had parts of his brain coming out. He was on a stretcher and his family was wailing at his side.

“Don’t you see that these people are hurting?” he was asked.

“But I am from the people too,” he said, his smile incandescent. “They lost their loved ones as martyrs. They should be happy. I want to be a martyr too.”