At 10.35 yesterday morning the Indonesian army withdrew from three billets around a Salesian Convent tucked in under a steep hill at the back of Dili. British army Gurkhas are now deployed nearby.
For the first time in two weeks visitors could go to the besieged compound where hundreds of refugees have sheltered under the protection of six nuns. As I spoke to Sister Marlene in the convent, with happy and relieved women and children playing in the open air outside, a man came running in to say that bodies had been found in a ravine just above the convent school.
We climbed up and found one corpse with no feet and the skin completely eaten away by dogs, leaving just a yellowing skull and a pile of bones, even though the man had been shot just a week before.
This is the stark reality of the horror which gripped the East Timor capital after the people voted for independence from Indonesia on August 30th. The man had been shot by soldiers when he ventured down from the mountains to try to find food for the starving refugees hiding above as the city was laid waste by pro-Jakarta militias and soldiers.
"I can't believe people can be so bad," said Sister Marlene, who comes from the Philippines and was educated in California. "At least they could return the bodies to the families, but they shot the people and left them here for the dogs."
From the ravine we could see Dili spread out below us. To the distress of the nuns, black and grey plumes of smoke were rising anew from the town centre, obscuring the view of frigates and supply ships of the UN force out in the bay.
As we drove back to the Turismo Hotel through an underworld of ravaged streets in the dusk, we passed seven blazing buildings which had escaped the firestorm of last week. One was the barracks of the notorious 744 battalion composed of East Timorese and Indonesian soldiers who were burning it themselves rather than leave it intact as they withdrew.
The advance contingent of mainly Australian soldiers of the United Nations International Force in East Timor (Interfet) deployed at several key junctions in Dili yesterday, setting up roadblocks and searching people for weapons. But the events of the last 24 hours made it clear that on the third day of Interfet's presence the situation was rapidly deteriorating.
The killing of Financial Times journalist Sander Thoenes shocked the international press corps, which is mainly concentrated in the seafront Turismo hotel under Australian army protection. Many had travelled along the road where he was brutally murdered on Tuesday, thinking that the militia had left town and that it was safe to move around. Now they were sharing the fear of the people.
In contrast to other conflicts, journalists here are as much targets as the pro-independence people, because they are a witness to the evil that is being done.
We learned at 7.30 yesterday morning that Mr Thoenes's body had been found in the suburb of Becora where he had gone as a pillion passenger on a motorbike belonging to a local man, Florindo da Conceicao Arauja, just hours after arriving in East Timor.
Florindo came to the hotel yesterday to relate what had happened to the journalist, a Dutch national based in Jakarta. They had been stopped by six men in army uniforms with army issue automatic weapons and riding three motorbikes, he said.
"I didn't want to pull up as I was concerned for the journalist's safety," he explained. "As soon as I turned around they started shooting - bang, bang, bang. I said hold tight, embrace me, as bullets were flying all around."
In haste to escape Florindo crashed the motorcycle and Mr Thoenes fell and lay still "as he were asleep". "I ran off and heard them shout, `Kill him, kill him'."
Interfet troops retrieved the body of the journalist late yesterday morning. He was found lying in a large pool of blood with an apparent bullet wound in the stomach and his head badly mutilated. Around the same time two other journalists, Jon Swain of the Sunday Times and Charles `Chip' Hires of the Gamma photo agency had arrived by taxi in Becora, a sprawling suburb east of Dili. They were stopped and surrounded by hostile Indonesian army (TNI) soldiers. One smashed the driver's face with a rifle butt.
"The officers said at one point: `These guys are East Timorese soldiers, you've got to understand'," said Mr Hires.
The main body of soldiers left in three trucks, taking the interpreter and leaving five or six men on motorcycles, he said. They shot out the tyres of the taxi and forced them out onto the road.
The two journalists then ran off as the soldiers fired in their general direction and hid among burnt out houses in thick foliage. What followed was like a bad movie, said Mr Hires.
Mr Swain called The Sunday Times in London on his mobile phone to say they were in trouble. But it had hardly any battery power and died as they tried to explain where they were. A message was relayed to Interfet and during the evening helicopters appeared which they tried to attract by flashing broken glass in the moonlight.
Late at night an Australian army personnel carrier arrived and took them to safety. Maj Gen Peter Cosgrove, the Interfet commander, came to the Turismo Hotel to tell the assembled journalists later, "It's been quite a dangerous 24 hours". He said: "There are some signs of the militia becoming agitated by the return into Dili of displaced persons. The militia has attempted to stir up some activity as they show that all is not yet secure. Clearly recent events show it is a dangerous place."
This was brought home to Maggie O'Kane of the Guardian late yesterday afternoon. As she drove a motorcycle near the port she heard a bang and felt the air compress beside her ear. That meant a close call with a high-velocity bullet, said Australian Captain Dan Skinner when he summoned journalists to the tiny hotel lobby yesterday evening for an emergency briefing.
"Don't take security lightly, you are soft targets," he said. "And if you go out after dark, you may as well slit your wrists."
If the hotel was attacked, he said: "You will hear three whistle blasts. Assemble here, get on your gut and stay there until I tell you to do otherwise." But despite the ominous atmosphere over Dili and the fact that the international force is badly stretched with only some 1,500 men deployed from an advance contingent of 2,500, the women and children in the Salesian convent were overjoyed to see the peacekeepers arrive.
"When you heard the ship's siren and saw the planes come over, we said `yes, yes. Go, go, go," said Sister Marlene.
For her and the 106 refugees in the convent it meant the end of two terrifying weeks sleeping on the floors to dodge ricocheting bullets. She described how Mr Brian Kelly, an official of the nearby UNAMET (UN Mission to East Timor) compound had kept up their morale by negotiating with the TNI to protect them every day. "He's been one of my life savers," she said. "We were afraid, but we couldn't show that fear to the women and children because they would fall apart."
Sister Marlene said that only four priests had died, despite reports that a dozen priests and nuns had been killed. She named them as Father Albreght Cail, Father Francisco, Father Hilario and an Indonesian priest.
As I left another excitement gripped the convent as people claimed to point out a suspected militia man hiding in a nearby water tower. "It's a militia man. I want the peacekeepers to get him out," said Sister Marlene. "Otherwise I am not going to sleep tonight."
Australian troops raided and took over the headquarters of the Aitarak militia in Dili, and arrested six men, witnesses said. In Jakarta, Muslim groups held new protests outside the Australian embassy as the military chief, Gen Wiranto, said he expected Timor's martial law status to be cancelled soon. He said the situation there was calm.