She swept down upon us like a bird of ill omen, a Shia woman in a black chador, screeching and wailing. "My son, my son has just been martyred. He was only 22. He wasn't even married." Lara Marlowe, in Baghdad reports
The drivers and medical attendants in the ambulance bay at the Kindi Hospital in south central Baghdad were too busy tending to the living to attempt to comfort the poor, toothless woman.
She ran from one person to another, clutching at our clothing, saliva foaming at the corners of her mouth, literally mad with grief.
"I want a flag! I want a flag to bury him in! A flag or a banner!" she kept saying.
Kindi is the main emergency hospital for Baghdad, and it treats only civilians. Fifty were admitted yesterday morning. Three were dead on arrival. More wounded arrived as I visited the wards.
At Kindi, I encountered personal animosity for the first time since the war started, in the room where Ali Najha (2) lay covered in blood and bandages.
A relative began telling us his story: the child's family attempted to flee the capital three days ago. The grey-haired relative claimed a US checkpoint opened fire on them, killing little Ali's father, mother and four siblings.
As I tried to glean more details, or find an eyewitness, another relative, an angry teenager, rushed towards me, shouting in English.
"What do you want? Can you bring his father and mother back from the dead? Get out!" he shouted.
Mohamed Abdullah Alwan (38) was riding home on a motorcycle about 8.30 a.m. yesterday when he passed the tunnel that leads to the al-Rashid Hotel, which had just been taken by US forces.
"There were tanks in a line in the tunnel, and they were firing out into the traffic. They hit me; I didn't fall. I sped up, then they shot the motorcycle from under me," he said.
Mr Alwan had a tablespoon-sized hole in his side and shrapnel wounds in his hands and legs.
"These are small wounds. We don't have time to treat them. We'll send him home today," the doctor said.
But Mr Alwan winced with pain. "They must have seen civilians in front of them," he said. "Why did they shoot?"
A girl in a coma was among the saddest victims. Safa Karim (11) was playing in the small garden of her family's home in the al-Khaleeja district when an aircraft bombed the building next door.
Her uncle died yesterday, and her sister received head injuries. Safa's wrists and ankles were tied down with scarves, because she flails about and doctors are afraid she will hurt herself more.
"We gave her 10 blood transfusions, but she vomited them all up," Dr Mohamed al-Atroushi sighed.
Then he stared at us, as if we were representatives of the US and Britain. "Why are you bombarding civilians?" Dr al-Atroushi asked. "People will lose confidence in you."