ARRIVAL HONORS Marines carry the coffins of 13 of their own whowere killed in fighting terrorists in Marawi City on Friday as
they arrive at Villamor Air Base in Pasay City on Sunday night. President Duterte led the arrival ceremony and condoled with the
families of the fallen soldiers. —GRIG C.MONTEGRANDE
MARAWI CITY—From the third-story window of an abandoned government office building he now lives in as a refugee, Nasir Abdul is watching his city being destroyed.
Nearly every day for the past three weeks, the military has pounded the lakeside town of Marawi with rockets and bombs as it tries to wipe out militants linked to the Islamic State (IS) group, also called Isis, in some of the most protracted urban combat to hit this volatile region in decades.
And on nearly every one of those days, Abdul has stood at the window and watched along with dozens of others who can’t turn away from the deadly spectacle taking place just a kilometer away.
As plumes of thick black smoke wafted above the city’s minarets again on Friday—a day of intense skirmishes that saw the Army lose 13 Marines—Abdul stood transfixed.
Two helicopter gunships had just finished strafing the city, and now the people beside him were pointing toward a Vietnam-era attack aircraft circling overhead.
The plane, an OV-10 Bronco, turned suddenly and dove almost straight down on the city center, letting loose two bombs before pulling its nose up and spiraling away.
Moments later, blasts shook the city and more smoke billowed skyward.
People dying with every bomb
“It hurts to watch because we know people are dying with every bomb,” the 45-year-old Abdul said, as the sound of gunfire crackled in the distance.
When “I see the bombings, I can’t help but cry. I can’t help but think what’s happening to my relatives, my family, my business, my house,” he said.
“We know a lot of people are buried under that rubble,” he added.
Three weeks after a new alliance of Islamic militants tried to seize this city in their boldest attack yet, large chunks of downtown have been leveled.
Militants remain holed up in several pockets scattered around the city center, along with at least 100 civilians, including hostages. Most of the town’s 200,000 inhabitants have fled, and more than 200 people have died.
The military says the dead include at least 138 militants, 58 government troops and 29 civilians—among them a teenager who was shot on Friday as he sheltered inside a Marawi mosque.
Fighting so intense
But the fighting is so intense, it’s impossible to fully recover bodies to get an accurate casualty toll.
The conflict in Marawi has raised fears that the IS group’s violent ideology is gaining a foothold in southern Philippines, where Moro separatists have fought for greater autonomy for decades.
The military says militants are trying to establish a caliphate here, similar to the one IS has attempted to create in the Middle East that stretches from the Syrian city of Raqqa to embattled Mosul, in Iraq.
Forty foreign fighters have reportedly participated in the fighting in Marawi, including Malaysians and Indonesians.
The government has asked the United States to provide intelligence and other technical support, and at least one American surveillance plane has flown in support of the Philippine forces.
Abdul said that while people in Marawi supported autonomy, few backed the extremist militant groups who had grown notorious for carrying out kidnappings and beheadings.
However, Lt. Col. Jo-Ar Herrera, spokesperson for the Army’s 1st Infantry Division, said the insurgents had “a lot of sympathizers, a lot of supporters in this area.”
Maute roots in Marawi
The main group leading the siege, the Maute, has deep roots in the city—“in terms of relatives, in terms of connections, in terms of culture, heritage,” he said.
The Maute, named after three militant brothers, staged a similar attack last November on nearby Butig, on the opposite side of Lake Lanao, which lasted six days.
But the intensity of the latest assault, and the ability of the militants to hold out for so long, appears to have caught the government off guard.
Herrera said insurgents had prepared for as much as a year, stocking secret caches in basements with food, weapons and ammunition.
Rexson Tamano, who is sleeping on the floor of an outdoor hallway in the same provincial government building as Abdul, said he saw no suspicious activity and no sign an attack was imminent.
When gunfire heralded the start of the siege on May 23, Tamano called his pregnant wife on the other side of town to check on her and their four children.
‘Too dangerous’
“She said ‘stay where you are, please don’t come for us, it’s too dangerous,”’ Tamano recalled. But he ran home anyway.
On the way, he was stopped near a hospital at a checkpoint manned by militants. They wore black ski masks, and each held a machine-gun.
“I tried to walk away but they called me over and asked whether I was Muslim or Christian,” Tamano said. He told them the truth—he was Muslim, and they waved him through.
The city’s minority Christians have been singled out for execution.
Mikee Rakim, a humanitarian volunteer, said a group of 10 Christians told him they had been taken hostage when the fighting started.
Militants beheaded two of them and were preparing to kill the rest when an airstrike hit a neighboring house, enabling them to escape.
While most of the displaced have headed inland, about 200 are sheltering at the headquarters of the provincial government, which has distributed food, water and sleeping mats to the families camped out here.
Every time airstrikes take place, they gather in small groups at the windows, which look east toward the city.
‘It’s so painful’
While explosions shook Marawi on Friday and fighter jets buzzed overhead, one boy pushed a baby on a stroller through a hallway. In a corner, several other children sat making toy tanks out of paper.
“Isis! Isis” cried one boy, laughing as he pointed to a tiny black flag on one of the tanks.
Fahadda Camim, who was conducting an assessment for Community Family Services International, a Filipino humanitarian organization, said the children were “copying what they see outside” and were in need of counseling.
Abdul said he did not want to watch the fighting. But he could not resist, either.
“It’s our city,” he said. “It’s so painful. It’s impossible to turn away.” —AP