The whole town is mourning after Golan Heights strike
ISRAEL – The scene around the football pitch here in Majdal Shams, where 12 children and young people died on Saturday, is quiet and deeply sombre. There are plenty of people here – local Druze elders in their distinctive red and white turbans and baggy trousers, military officials, visiting government ministers and of course many journalists. A black flag flies at the spot where the rocket landed last night, gouging a shallow crater in the pitch and blowing out the metal fence around it. There are shrapnel holes everywhere. There’s a bomb shelter metres away, but when the siren sounded last night, the children had mere seconds to respond. They had absolutely no chance. Israel says the rocket was fired from Shebaa, a small village just a short distance away across the western flank of Mt Hermon, which towers over Majdal Shams.
Hezbollah disputes Israel’s claim, but around the time the rocket landed here, its media outlets announced that it had fired rockets towards an Israeli military base less than two miles from the football pitch. There’s a ripple of applause, but opinion here in this Druze minority town is divided on how forcefully Israel should respond. After almost 10 months of simmering conflict, the prospect of an all-out war scares many. When Bezalel Smotrich, Israel’s hardline finance minister, arrives, the crowd swells and the sense of anger mounts.
He’s accosted by angry locals. Some are demanding a decisive response against Hezbollah. Some accuse the government of abandoning the Golan Heights. Smotrich tries to offer his condolences, even to hug those around him. But it seems not everyone is interested in his sympathy. In the middle of a large adjacent football pitch, 12 empty black chairs commemorate the lost.
Walking around the steep streets of this mountain community, the sense of collective shock and mourning is overwhelming. Small groups of men, women and children, all dressed in black, are moving around silently, from one grieving household to another. Wahim, a teacher who knew many of the young victims, was utterly distraught, unsure whether to try to express his feelings or stay silent. (BBC) …[+]