Dhaka Crash: ‘The sound I have never heard

“It was like 30 or 40 thunders that fell from the sky,” said an 18-year-old Anat Bin Hassan, whose voice still trembled two days after the disaster.

“I have never heard such a sound in his life – he came from heaven. In a second, the fighter flew over my head and crashed into a school building.”

The Bangladesh Air Force F-7 Air Force fell from heaven and crashed into a elementary school building at school and college on Monday, noting Bangladesh’s deadly aviation crash.

At least 31 people were killed – many of their schoolchildren under 12 – waiting to take him, heading for training or grabbing a quick snack.

Dressed in a chocolate brown shirt and black pants, the school sign was neatly pressed, the anat was talked to a friend under the canopy on the site of a wide 12-way campus of the school and college, in the busy neighborhood of Utta. He says he was almost 30 feet when the plane was saturated into the building.

Ahnaf instinctively dropped to the ground, clutching his head with his hands. When he opened his eyes, the world around him changed.

“Everything I saw is smoke, fire and darkness. The children shouted. Everything was chaos,” he said BBC by phone.

The air force stated that the reaction in the training flight felt a mechanical malfunction shortly after takeoff. The pilot, who threw away just before the disaster, later died at the hospital.

“I saw a pilot ejection,” Anat said. “After the catastrophe, I raised my head and saw his white parachute descended. He broke through the tin roof of another building. I heard him alive after landing, even asked for water. The helicopter came and took him away.”

When the smoke and flames spread over the school, the anapya’s instincts were. A fiery shrapnel from a burning plane hit his backpack, sang his pants and pull out his hand. “It was so hot, but I threw a bag aside and ran to help.”

He ran to the concrete track, which separated the playground from the two -story elementary school building. The plane crashed into the gate, filled six feet into the ground, then tilted up, crashed into the first floor and exploded. Two classrooms called Cloud and Sky became zero zero wreck.

At the entrance, Ahnof saw the student’s body torn.

“It looks like the plane hit it before getting into the building,” he said. “He was younger than us.”

A five -year -old campus, which is usually buzzing with student chatter, turned into a fire scene, spread metal and shouted.

Among the smoke, the anat was noticed by a junior student whose skin was scorched and whose body was extended out of the flame.

“His friend told me, ‘I can’t do it alone. Can you help me? “So I lifted the boy, put him on his shoulder and took him to the medical hall.”

Another woman caught fire. The children ran out of the building deprived of their connection, their clothes were burned, their skin was bubbled in intense heat.

“On the second floor, the students were stranded and shouted,” Anat said. “We unfolded the grate to get to one of the gate that was on fire. The army and fire service entered and saved some of them.”

Ahnof, like many others, quickly took on the roles far beyond his age.

“We helped control the crowd, kept people away from the fire. We cleaned the roads for ambulances and helped the crew of the fire service pull the pipes on campus.”

At one point he gave his shirt from the back – literally.

“One student had nothing. I removed it and gave it. I continued naked pressure with salvation.”

But the weight of so many young people lost at school is what he says it will be difficult to overcome.

One of them was 11-year-old Firdas Nidhi.

She went to school in the morning like any other day. When the plane hit, her father was in prayer – he ran barefoot from the mosque as soon as he heard.

Her uncle, Saed Bila Hosein, told me that the family spent all night, looking for more than half a dozen hospitals.

“We went through the Utar, helpless. Someone said that six bodies were in the same hospital. On Tuesday, her father identified her – on her teeth and a problem in her eyes. But we were still not given the body.”

Pain from the loss of the baby has only deteriorated bureaucratic maze.

Despite the fact that the revelation of the daughter’s daughter and lens in her eyes, the family said that the body would not be released without DNA test – because there were several applicants.

For the first time, a police report had to be submitted. Then the father gave blood at the military hospital. Now they were waiting for the drawing of the mother’s sample. “We know it’s her,” Mr. Josein said. “But they still don’t convey the body.”

Vaca, the youngest of the three siblings, lived next to his uncle in his old ancestors in Diabari. “She grew up in front of our eyes – playing on the roofs, sitting under the coconut tree next to our house, always pressing her niece. She was just a child and she loved the children,” said Mr. Josein.

“I only saw her the day before,” he said. “If it wasn’t for this extracurricular coach, it would be alive.”

In the chaos and the heart break, which followed the collapse, the moments of narrow shoots and huge courage stood out.

One mother told the BBC Bengali as she gave the baby money on Tiffin, not the lunch packing that morning. During the break, he went out to buy food – and unconsciously avoided death with a simple chance. “He’s alive because I didn’t give him Tiffin,” she said.

The tragedy of another father was incredible. He lost both children for hours. His daughter died in the first place. Having buried her, he returned to the hospital to just wake up from a short nap and said he also died his little son.

And then it was Mahreen Chowdhury. The teacher, who is responsible for children from 3 to 5 classes, helped at least 20 students run into hell.

Refusing to leave, she continued to return to the flames – until her body burned more than 80%. Chaudhurs died a hero, saving the lives of those who are too young to save themselves.

For staff at school it’s like living in a nightmare.

“I can no longer function properly. Every time I look at the building, the wave of sadness breaks over me. I feel lost, bad and depressed. I lost three children I knew,” one of them was a colleague, “said Shaficul Islam Tultul, 43-year-old Bengali teacher.

Once the questions and confusion were spinning around the scale of the tragedy.

The government has reported 29 deaths and more than 100 injuries, and seven victims are still unknown. However, military interagency relations with the public (ISR) set a fee for 31 years.

According to the Ministry of Health, 69 people were injured as a result of an accident and rescue – including 41 students.

Social media burst from the assumptions about possible cover, claiming that Bangladesh’s armed forces firmly denied. Meanwhile, the chief school teacher Hadia Ahter told BBC Bengali The fact that families reported that five people were still missing.

For eyewitnesses and survivors, injuries are delayed.

“I didn’t sleep for two days,” Anat says. “Every time I look out into the street, I feel that the fighter goes on me. The shouts are still in my ears.”

Fighters and commercial planes often fly over campus near Daki’s International Airport. “We are in flight,” Anat said.

“We used to see the planes over our heads – but we never imagined that one would fall from the sky and struck us.”

However, the horrors of this day mercilessly pursue it. The shouts, fire and burned bodies of classmates and teachers refuse to disappear.

“When I close my eyes, I see no darkness – it’s smoke.”