Hundreds of crude barrel bombs have laid waste to large tracts of Aleppo, killing thousands. Richard Spencer meets survivors
The war damaged streets of Bustan Al Basha district in Aleppo Photo: WILL WINTERCROSS
By Richard Spencer, Kilis
7:01PM GMT 14 Mar 2014
The bombs had killed his grandfather and his cousin, and injured his father, but still Hassan Ali stayed on in Aleppo. Then his own street came into range.
The barrel landed next to his house, and destroyed his neighbours' dwelling.
When they fall, there is silence - as the barrels simply drop, unguided - until the explosion. Then the smoke and dust goes up and the shock-waves go sideways.
This blast went over the head of his nine-year-old brother Adam, who was playing on the street up the road but said he saw the shrapnel clatter into the side of his home.
The family tried to help their neighbours, but it was impossible.
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Twelve people were dead. "We tried to find the mother and her daughter," Mr Ali said. "We couldn't find a single piece."
A three-month bombardment, unparalleled even in this war, has levelled large parts of Aleppo, Syria's biggest city and one of the world's most resonant historical names .
Children play on swings amongst the debris of Aleppo close to the front line (WILL WINTERCROSS)
Away from the cameras that have documented so much of the fighting, as journalists and local activists have been driven out, the onslaught of barrel bombs has continued since before Christmas.
In some neighbourhoods, half of all homes have been left in rubble.
The streets have emptied. A year ago, Aleppo, where rebels and regime troops had fought each other to a stalemate, became a magnet for refugees from elsewhere, the population swelling to more than three million. Now it is a ghost town.
One by one, since the first big protests of the Syrian uprising on March 15, 2011, cities and suburbs have come to encapsulate the revolution: first Dera'a, in the south, where they began, later Baba Amr, in Homs, and Qusayr, the site of a key victory for the regime.
But Aleppo is the biggest prize, a symbol of the country that reflected its history and make-up: a hub of Sunni commerce since time immemorial, home to a vibrant Christian minority, and also a centre for conservative Islam.
Seeing the rebels weakened by infighting, the regime seems to have decided to soften up the city's rebel-held half for an assault by driving out the inhabitants. A group of Aleppan lawyers and civilian activists in the Turkish city of Gaziantep, two hours' drive away to the north, estimates that between December and the beginning of March more than 1,000 barrel bombs were dropped.
No-one knows why the regime chooses this makeshift device, a crude container packed with up to half a ton of TNT and shrapnel normally just unloaded from the back of helicopters. It may be it is running short of its Russian-made missiles, or that it wants to save them for military rather than easy civilian targets.
But the group calculates that 4,000 people have been killed, of which 2,600 have been identified. Others, like Mr Ali's neighbours, were simply incinerated. At one point in January, up to 30 barrels were dropping a day.
The suburbs hit are a roll-call of the poorer, Sunni Muslim districts, previously a magnet for people from the countryside seeking work: Tareq al-ban and Qadi Askar, once locations of rebel headquarters; Marjah, now 80 per cent in ruins; Bab al-Nayrab, Ansari and Sukkari.
In the latter, leaflets fell first, telling people to leave. It was then hit by 40 bombs.
The group says that 90 per cent of the residents of these areas have now fled the city, some to tent encampments in the countryside, some east to neighbouring Raqqa province, which is now almost entirely in the hands of the violent al-Qaeda offshoot, Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham, but mostly to Turkey.
With its better provision of refugee camps than Lebanon, Turkey had previously suffered less visibly from the influx. That has now changed. The streets of the border town of Kilis are lined with children begging for cash and food. By the time they finally gave up their homes, many families had already run out of money.
Hassan Ali and the 13 other members of his family now live under concrete brieze blocks in an unfinished building, three tarpaulins dividing up the space into makeshift homes. Spring is just arriving, but the rain lashed down outside as he showed us around.
Mr Ali, a hairdresser in pre-war life, and his cousin, Ali Ali, a car mechanic, go to the town square every morning to seek casual labour.
If they get 10-20 Turkish lire - three to six pounds - for a day's work they are happy. Mostly they do not, and said they were now considering joining the Free Syrian Army.
But they have shelter. Other families are sleeping rough, or on the floor of the town's bus station. One man, a father of six, had just arrived there, walking across the muddy border after his cousin's family were killed. Umm Mohanna, 50, a widow, brought out eight of her eleven children after their home suffered a direct hit. Luckily no-one was inside at the time.
Mahmoud Badenjki, one of the lawyers, said he thought the bombing was an attempt to sabotage the "peace talks" that took place in Geneva in January and February. "This wasn't an accident," he said. He claimed the plan was to force the opposition to quit the talks.
Now they have been abandoned anyway, and in the last week there has been a pause in the bombing too. "It has dropped dramatically," said Abdulrahman Alafy, an Aleppo doctor speaking by telephone who said he had treated 100 children so far.
No-one fully understands how this regime works, whether there are factions pursuing different agendas - some a military solution, others a compromise. The regime may have been driving out potential opponents, because on Thursday it announced plans for "elections" this year.
Under the rules, those living abroad for more than ten years are banned from standing, which includes most of the exiled opposition. In any case, President Bashar al-Assad has been elected twice before - last time with 97 per cent of the vote.
Mr Assad may feel he can win militarily, though the opposition's Gulf backers have started to increase arms supplies once again. Aleppo may be the next big target for his troops and their Hizbollah allies. After the bombing, the land war may resume.
In any case it is unlikely, as Hassan Ali said, that the refugees will be able to return safely any time soon.
Adam, the nine-year-old, says he has become a regular at a Turkish soup kitchen. It is three years since he has been at school, but he is getting used to his new home in the garage. "I don't miss Aleppo because I am not afraid here," he said. "But otherwise, I miss Aleppo."
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