Paris terrorist attack Nov13th 2015
Out of context: Reply #75
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witness of the barbarity:
https://www.reddit.com/r/france/…
I was at Bataclan tonight. I came back home over an hour ago, but I can't sleep anyway.
I don't have the full story, the situation quickly meant that we couldn't see what the terrorists were doing, or elsewhere in the room etc. . I will give 'my' version.
The moment we heard the 'fireworks', I was in the mosh pit near the stairs when the terrorists came in, and, out of reflex, I ran directly towards the right side of the stage.
In my 'corner', everyone was on top of each other in contrived, painful positions, face on the ground, head resting on whatever, a leg, for example. On top of a bloodbath. And that's how the worst game I have ever played started.
The waiting game.
The heaviest silence in the hall was punctuated with gunfire. Not in time, with no logic, nothing. Just, gunfire now and again. And we asked ourselves if the next bullet was for us.
Waiting for the police to arrive, without any notion of time (no watch, couldn't get to my phone). Feeling people getting up to suddenly get shot down. And again. And again....
Not allowed to move, because a simple movement made the pain worse - mine as well as theirs - (we were really all interwoven together). Not allowed to talk, to whisper, nothing. Someone starts to cry? They were met with 'shushes' from everyone.
The terrorists didn't say anything, apart from at the beginning when they said something about Syria, French President Hollande, and the fact that it was only the beginning. At the start, they 'explored' the place, shooting randomly at people lying on the ground. Then we couldn't see anything. Then we heard gunfire. It was impossible for me to quickly get up and escape, every muscle was numb and it was impossible to see the rest of the hall without potentially coming into view of the terrorists, a chance that I didn't dare take. I was counting on the police.
You think that with an event of this magnitude, the army will be called up and that someone will come and intervene. We clearly had no idea about what was happening at République or Stade de France at the same time. Nobody came. And the gunfire continued (not in bursts). So we waited, playing lottery with the terrorists. You have these awful thoughts, like "I beg, please not me, aim at the other side of the hall." These thoughts are interrupted by gunfire.
At one moment (shall we say near the 'middle?' My idea of time is distorted), an explosion rang out. According to other witnesses, it was a grenade which was thrown into the pit near the stage. I can't confirm, if it was only an explosion.
And there, that is when the waiting game took a turn. They had explosives. Fanatics armed with explosives, without demands... Your brain has a way of only thinking of the worst: we are not a currency to be changed. Of course, I asked myself if the aim was not simply just to blow up the building, or least us, the crowd. The waiting was not the same as before. Time became longer. The pain intensified. People were panicking/suffering more and more. Telephones began ringing more and more, as friends and relatives were trying to get information, which just intensified everything more and more (don't make a sound!). We looked for comfort by exchanging looks with people around us, only then to come back to the feeling of fear.
Where are the police? What are they doing? We really started to despair. Finally, someone whispers 'The police are here.' And everything changed. Time became longer again, as they did not come and intervene straight away (scoping things out, etc). At this moment I think that the terrorists went upstairs somewhere inside Bataclan, as the police came in without shooting.
Then a horde of police came in. Getting up, helping people to get up, seeing armed police bursting into Bataclan.... It was a relief I cannot describe. We looked at each other, shaking, still alive. We obviously stayed extremely vigilant. The police didn't know if the terrorists were among the crowd or elsewhere (and I wouldn't have been able to say). It turned out they were elsewhere, according to the news.
We started to walk, hands on heads, inside a feeling of almost joy. That soon came to an end by THE vision of a NIGHTMARE. Tens of bodies, some at deaths door, a tide of blood in the pit. Awful. Horrible. I look at the place where I was standing before I sought cover towards the back and I can see numerous bodies. That easily could have been me.
I get out quickly, still had my hands on my head, seeing staff at the entrance of Bataclan lifeless on the floor (the 'fireworks' that we heard earlier were the terrorists coming in). A few steps down the pavement and I collapsed. A torrent of tears. I can't remember the last time I cried before tonight, but it's impossible to stop. I was shaking all over. A ringing in my ear. But I am alive.
Finally, we gathered together in cafes in the adjacent street, relieved to have got out, pulled out our phones to update people. And we learn of the 'rest', République, Stade de France, etc. How fucking tragic. All that, and for what?
I am not giving any essential information in this message, but it's cathartic. It's 'frustrating' to be in the heart of such an event and to be of no use, staying flat against the floor/a leg/arms, etc, for 2 to 3 hours and not helping.