A horde of weeping refugees was marched around Dili yesterday, terrorised by Aitarak militia and soldiers of the Indonesian army, the TNI.
After a night punctuated by intensive gunfire, the increasingly vicious campaign by the militia and the army to control East Timor reached a new low.
Just before midday, the militia surrounded the compound of the International Commission for the Red Cross, shooting off dozens of rounds of automatic gunfire. There was chaos inside the compound as women and young children rolled across filthy tarpaulins, desperate to escape the gunfire.
The militia also fired right outside the Turismo Hotel, forcing myself and 14 others to flee to our rooms. Thirteen of us huddled in a small bathroom as we heard shouting and rounds of gunfire right outside.
An Indonesian speaker in the group heard the soldiers urge on the attack.
"Get them, go in and shoot them," the army shouted to the black-shirted Aitarak thugs.
We hid for almost an hour as the militia screamed and let off their rifles.
After the shooting stopped, hundreds of screaming refugees were shooed out from the ICRC compound, and forced across the road to the seafront.
In the blazing midday heat, the panicked women and children were ordered at gunpoint away from their refuge.
Shortly afterwards the militia attacked Bishop Belo's residence, burning a building and forcing another flood of refugees to take to the streets.
At the UN headquarters in the afternoon, more refugees came from the direction of Balibe. They were women and small children, weeping as they walked, with the sound of gunfire in the distance.
The airport road was packed with lorries piled high with families and their belongings heading across the border to Atambua in West Timor. The vehicles were being checked by armed Aitarak members as the military looked on.
In central Dili the volunteer-run Motael Clinic was packed with casualties.
In the past two days 10 people have been brought in with gunshot wounds and dozens more with knife wounds.
The body of Jose de Costa lay under a white shroud just inside the main room. The 18-year-old from Vila Verde had been brought in on Sunday afternoon, his body covered in blood.
He had been attacked with a machete, suffering extensive stomach and shoulder wounds. He died at 11.50 p.m. that night from loss of blood. Nurse Jose Liona explained that he could not be buried, as his family had fled towards the border and could not be located.
Jose said that if they could not be found the sisters who run the Motael clinic would bury the young man with no family in attendance. Another patient, Jose de Silva (18) from Balide, was shot in the buttocks as he ran away from the military.
"We were ordered to go with the military, but we were afraid so we ran away. The military will not accept the election result, they want to stop our independence," Jose said.
Across the room from Jose, a middle-aged man lay with a gaping wound in his side. His body was stick-thin and his breath was laboured. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Most of the foreigners in East Timor have fled the island. Today the UN staged what is officially being called a "relocation" of all but non-essential personnel.
Carloads of anxious UN staff raced through the streets of Dili, hurriedly loading military police trucks with extremely anxious observers, staff and journalists.
A Land-Rover carrying gardai on United Nations duty was fired at by a lone militia member. The back window was smashed but no one was hurt.
At the airport a German UNAMET (UN Mission in East Timor) worker was anxiously pacing about waiting for a military flight to Darwin, Australia. She was wearing a yellow T-shirt and army fatigues, and had reluctantly left the town of Suai the day before.
"It is very hard to leave. Young children look up at you with big eyes, and how can you tell them you have to go?" she asked.
As he boarded the Hercules Mr Michael Emery, deputy emergencies manager with Care International, said he was extremely saddened by the position of the refugees. "They have enough supplies for the next few days, but their situation is looking extremely serious."
As the hot sun sank and night settled in, the mass of bodies at UNAMET HQ huddled together for a night's sleep. Mercifully, the gunfire is less frequent tonight and the quavering sounds of a group of young girls can be heard, quietly singing Ave Maria.
As he lay on the bare concrete floor an old Timorese man looked up and gave a small nod. His eyes misted over. Let us hope for a peaceful day tomorrow.