A Christian town in Lebanon that was once considered a refuge from Israeli attacks is now the scene of carnage

AITOU, Lebanon – The scene of the carnage in northern Lebanon showed heartbreaking snippets of everyday family life.

A dead baby in a wrecked pickup truck; a child’s severed arm was buried in nearby rubble; toddler clothes and books shredded; Flies swarmed as officers collected body parts, some of which were too small for body bags and ended up in clear ziplock bags.

The overwhelming stench of rotting flesh mixed with concrete dust permeated everything at the crime scene, where 23 people, including two children, were killed, according to local officials.

This was the result of an airstrike on Monday on the Lebanese Christian village of Aitou, which Israel said targeted a position of the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah.

Until then, this region of hilly olive groves and winding roads overlooking the sea had been a relative refuge, far from the war that dominated Beirut and the south of the country.

Just last week the area was “quiet; “Everything was calm,” Illy Edwan told NBC News as he surveyed the rubble of his villa, which was reduced to rubble by the explosion, with its insulation and internal structure blown to pieces and a neighboring vehicle twisted like a burnt pretzel was.

“My house used to be three stories, but look at it today,” he added.

Glass and twisted metal were scattered on the terraces of the surrounding houses. Some nearby olive trees laden with fruit ahead of the upcoming harvest were also destroyed, their green leaves covered in gray soot from the explosion.

Hezbollah does not normally have a presence here. But Edwan, who was not at home at the time of the bombing, said an official from the group visited houses to donate money to displaced people, some of whom had fled southern Lebanon to escape the Israeli invasion, and were looking for their support Concerns inquired.

Israeli forces said in a statement that they had attacked “a target of the terrorist organization Hezbollah in northern Lebanon” and that reports of civilian casualties were being “verified” and “investigated.”

Jeremy Laurence, spokesman for the U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights, called for “a prompt, independent and thorough investigation” and said Tuesday his organization had “real concerns” about the attack in light of the “laws and principles of war.” of distinction, proportion and proportionality.”

Since October 8, 2023, a day after Hamas launched its terrorist attacks on Israel in which, according to official figures, 1,200 people were killed and around 240 were taken hostage, Hezbollah has been firing rockets and other projectiles into northern Israel in solidarity with the Palestinians militant group. The Israeli offensive in Gaza has since killed more than 42,000 people, according to health officials in the enclave.

And as the pair traded attacks on each other for months, more than 60,000 people were forced from their homes in northern Israel, according to government figures – and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and other Israeli ministers cited that as a reason for launching a military campaign in southern Lebanon last month.

More than 2,300 people, including 127 children, have been killed and an estimated 1.2 million displaced in Lebanon since the Oct. 7 attack, according to Lebanese officials. Many of them left their homes after Israel began its large-scale bombing campaign on September 17, when pagers belonging to Hezbollah members exploded across the country.

Since then, the Lebanese have suffered “the worst humanitarian crisis in decades,” the U.N. humanitarian office said in a statement on Tuesday.

The Lebanese people are “fleeing with almost nothing,” said Rema Jamous Imseis, director of the U.N. Middle East refugee office, adding that they are “being forced into the great outdoors and sleeping under the stars as they try to find their way “towards safety and support.”

Some choose an unlikely path.

The port of Tripoli, 10 miles from Aitou, is not known for its beauty, let alone its accommodations for civilian passengers. The dirty industrial site is accompanied by the bang of heavy machinery and creaking 40-foot containers being unloaded from ships docked here.

Yet hundreds of people use the city as one of the only ways to escape their homeland. Since September 20, this previously passenger-less terminal has brought seven ships into the southern Turkish port of Mersin, with each ship carrying up to 300 passengers paying $350 per head.

“People are scared, so they leave the airports and come to us, to the ships here,” said Mohamed Youssef, 57, the owner of one ship. “Everyone is exhausted and the situation is very complicated,” he added. “So those who can afford it travel. They travel as much as they can. If they can’t do that, they stay in Lebanon.”

It’s a diverse exodus that features shiny Range Rovers and Porsches alongside dusty vehicles from the 1990s. While some smiled as they completed their bureaucratic stamping duties, for others the reality of their impending journey began to dawn.

Nermin Khair, 28, said she had no plans to return with her daughter Sandy, 3, temporarily leaving behind her husband, who said he would try to join in a month.

“It’s my country, but it makes us tired,” she said. “We left everything behind: we left our dreams behind, we left our things behind, we left everything here – my sisters, my brothers, everyone here.”

Her husband, Bashar Hanouf, 33, held his daughter’s hand as she and her mother walked along the gangplank to the waiting ship. It’s up to him to figure out how and when he can see her again.

“I hate Lebanon. “Every year we have a new situation,” he said. The family, he added, “strives for a better life for my wife and daughter. We must.”

Matt Bradley and Ziad Jaber reported from Aitou and Alexander Smith from London.