THE TENSION picks up noticeably as you walk along the road to the Sala Daeng intersection through the balmy Bangkok morning and then everything goes ballistic.
Anti-government protesters wearing handkerchiefs over their mouths and carrying home-made rocket launchers are firing across the junction at troops well positioned to fire back at will.
Most of the anti-government camp are recognisable by their red shirts but the hardline fighting wing of the opposition wear black shirts. And it is these young men who are bringing chaos to Bangkok.
The Thai military finally intervened in force to end the occupation of the city’s commercial heart, and the protesters, many of whom support former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, fought back with fury. Black clouds from burning heaps of tyres billow throughout the scene.
It’s hard to tell the cracking reports of home-made rockets from the bangs of the sniper bullets.
A scooter zips past with a foreign photographer wedged between two protesters.
He is wearing a blue helmet marked “PRESS” and he is dead.
The nine weeks of protest in the Thai capital have taken a heavy toll among journalists, and at least three were shot yesterday.
Back at the central protest site in the Rajprasong district a middle- aged policeman or soldier is dragged in, stripped to his blue underpants and set upon by protesters, who kick and punch his face into a mask of blood. For an awful second it looks like he might be shot, but then senior Red Shirts take him away and his wounds are tended.
On stage opposition leaders are singing songs and spirits are buoyant even though everyone knows the big push is under way and their time will soon be at an end.
Opposition leader Nattawut Saikua, wearing a “cool like Ghandi” T-shirt announced that the Red Shirt leaders were abandoning the struggle. “Too many have died. I’m giving up so nothing more happens to the people,” he said.
His comments were met with tears from the group, mostly women, in front of the stage.
Then sorrow turned to anger, almost in an instant. The wailing of the women was replaced by the shouts of young men, who fired rockets into the air, set the barricades ablaze and began to attack the buildings.
The air is filled with gunfire and smoke. We run to the Buddhist Pathumwanaram temple, which has been set aside as a safe zone and we take cover there.
There is heavy fire all around and a palpable fear of encirclement. We take our chances and run through the fighting to the Police Hospital building, where we are admitted, though many more are not.
In the grounds of the hospital we are fired on as we talk to a group of TV journalists. Hardline protesters have put out the word; the media is to blame and should be targeted.
Burning tyres, angry people, plumes of smoke. Bangkok is burning.