Boys Drawn to Gaza Beach, and Into Center of Mideast Strife

Gaza City, Gaza Strip: The four Bakr boys were young cousins, the children of Gaza fishermen who had ordered them to stay indoors - and especially away from the beach. But cooped up for nine days during Israeli bombardments, the children defied their parents and went to the seaside Wednesday afternoon, the eldest shooing away his little brother, telling him it was too dangerous.

As they clambered over a beach jetty in the late afternoon sun, a blast hit a nearby shack. One was killed instantly. The others ran. There was a second blast, and three more bodies littered the sand. One was charred, missing a leg, and another lay motionless, his curly head intact, his legs splayed at unnatural angles. (Through Lens, 4 Boys Dead by Gaza Shore)

The Israel Defense Forces acknowledged later that it was responsible for the "tragic outcome" and had intended to hit Hamas militants.

The four dead boys came quickly to symbolize how the Israeli aerial assaults in Gaza are inevitably killing innocents in this crowded impoverished sliver of land along the Mediterranean Sea. They stood out because they were inarguably blameless, children who simply wanted play on their favorite beach, near the port where their large extended family keeps its fishing boats.

The killings also crystallized the conundrum for the 1.7 million Gazans trapped between Israel's powerful military machine and the militants of Hamas and its affiliates, who fire rockets into Israel with little regard for how the deadly response affects Gazans. Virtually imprisoned by the tight border controls of Israel and Egypt, most Gazans have nothing to do with the perennial conflict, but cannot escape it.

More than 150 civilians, including more than 40 children, have been killed in Israel's air assaults in Gaza to curb militant rocket fire. Civilians make up about 75 percent of the Palestinian deaths, according to a running count by the United Nations.

Israel's military says it does not deliberately target civilians and takes extensive precautions to avoid killing them, and it blames Hamas for operating among in populated areas. But it has acknowledged, according to Israel Radio, that about half the people in Gaza killed so far were "not involved in terrorism."

In a report issued Wednesday, Human Rights Watch said there was a pattern of indiscriminate Israeli strikes and called on Israel to "end unlawful attacks that do not target military objectives." Israel has struck houses, offices and farmland in Gaza with F-16 airstrikes, missiles fired from Apache helicopters and shelling from naval gunboats.

Human Rights Watch has also condemned Hamas for deliberately targeting civilians in Israel. Hamas and allied militants have fired more than 1,000 rockets into Israel since July 8. One Israeli civilian has been killed. Most rockets have fallen in open ground or been destroyed by Israel's Iron Dome interception system.

Alon Ben-David, a well-sourced Israeli military affairs analyst, said on Israeli television that the second beach blast might have been aimed at the running children, perhaps mistaken for militants. He added that given the military's technologically advanced surveillance equipment, "it is a little hard for me to understand this, because the images show that the figures are children."

The killings recalled an episode in June 2006 when seven members of a family, the Ghaliyas, were killed by a shell as they were enjoying a day at the beach. The Israelis said they had been shelling areas where militants had fired rockets into Israel, but denied the shell that killed the family was theirs. No Palestinians believed the denial, and the anger fed an escalating cycle of violence.

At the Bakr family house on Wednesday afternoon, women wept and wailed. One cursed both Israel and Hamas. Another, Nasreen al-Bakr, noted quietly that Hamas had killed 10 of her family members in factional fighting.

Relatives identified the boys as Mohammad, 11 or 12 - an only son with seven sisters - Ismail,
9, Zakariya, 10, and Ahed, 7 or 9. In the chaos of an extended family milling about in mourning, there was some confusion about the ages.

Bakr, 27, said that the day before, she had opposed a proposed cease-fire, wanting to hold out for "a solution" that would end Israel's ban on fishing more than three kilometers from shore and allow the family to resume its livelihood.

"Not today," she said, then reconsidered, adding, "Today, too," reasoning that her nephew's blood should not be in vain.

Like many Gaza children from large families, the cousins were inseparable and traveled in a pack. In relatively normal times, they went daily to catch crabs, play soccer and check on the family boats at the beach, a place where Gazans can often be found relaxing at outdoor cafes. Ahed, with standout grades, was expected to pursue higher studies, while the rest were expected to soon join their elders fishing.

Mohammad and his brother Ramzi, 8, liked to play roles from a popular Syrian soap opera, Bab al-Hara. Mohammad was Moataz, an insurgent fugitive from French colonial authorities.
Ramzi was Moataz's brother, Issam, a neighborhood leader who stayed close to home.

They reprised those roles on Wednesday, when adventurous Mohammad sent Ramzi home. "He was always worried for me," Ramzi said softly.

As the afternoon turned golden, Tyler Hicks, a New York Times photographer, was in his hotel room facing the beach. He heard "a loud, close blast," he said. From the window, he saw the shack burning, and a boy running. He turned to grab his equipment, then heard another blast. There was a body on the beach. Hicks ran.

"I saw that boy running," he said, "and by the time I had reacted he was already dead. That's the image that will stay with me."

Men came running, the first to arrive raising his hands to his head in anguish. In such tight neighborhoods, Hicks said, "people know what family these boys are from and who their parents are." The boys were carried to the nearby Deira Hotel, where foreign journalists gave first aid to other wounded children.

Later, a little girl with curly hair, a sister of one of the boys, wandered outside the family house, sobbing, the adults too overwhelmed to tend her.

"They were children," Nasreen al-Bakr said. "They just want to play and study and live a good life."

Men carried the boys past on stretchers. One dead boy stared skyward, eyes still bright, his features fine and delicate. The wailing became screaming. Throughout the funeral, Mohammad's father held the boy's hand to his lips.

Asked what he would miss most about his brother, Ramzi looked at the ground. "Kul," he whispered in Arabic. "Everything."

(Reporting was contributed by Fares Akram in Gaza, Jodi Rudoren and Gaby Sobelman in Jerusalem, and Hwaida Saad in Beirut.)