Why did I go to Iraq? Because it was a big story.

I was there in 2002 for the presidential referendum where Saddam was the only candidate.

I knew there would be a war. I’d begun my post in Jerusalem but I didn’t go there – instead I went to Iraq. As a Serbian national I didn’t need a visa to enter Iraq. I also had experience covering Kosovo and the Balkan war. I arrived at the end of January 2003, and spent three months there.

This was my first big conflict after covering the former Yugoslavia. For me, it was very important to prove myself on the international stage.

It was the day after the Americans fired on our office and killed Taras Protsyuk, who was a good friend of mine, injured Gulf bureau chief, Samia Nakhoul, along with other colleagues. (Watch Reuters Bearing Witness to learn more)

I woke up around 6am and started driving around. Americans had captured most of the city already. I went to see Samia in the hospital and then came back to our hotel, which was surrounded by Americans, to file some pictures. I was really out of myself after what had happened to Taras.

Francesca, one of our London editors, called me and told me the Saddam statue was coming down. I went down there and took pictures of this guy looking at the statue. I came closer to him and had the perfect picture – a U.S. Marine looking at a statue pulled down by Americans. I didn’t expect this picture to be in so many publications.

At first I was sad because I had risked my life so often in the past and this one had become one of my most famous pictures. But I guess it does show the end of the Saddam era and I am satisfied that so many journalists and photographers remember my picture.

A Lieutenant sent me an email once asking me to send him the original file and I was really happy to do it but somehow I lost his email. Many times I’ve asked the U.S. military about trying to find the Marine in the picture but without success. If the gentleman sees this post, I’d kindly ask him to contact me.

(View 45 iconic images from the Iraq war with behind-the-scenes photographer accounts)

In a month on the frontline, I saw them defend a swathe of suburbs in the Syrian capital, mount complex mass attacks, manage logistics, treat their wounded – and die before my eyes.

But as constant, punishingly accurate, mortar, tank and sniper fire attested, President Bashar al-Assad’s soldiers on the other side, often just a room or a grenade toss away, are also well drilled, courageous – and much better armed.

So while the troops were unable to dislodge brigades of the Free Syrian Army from devastated and depopulated neighborhoods just east of the city centre – and indeed made little effort to do so – there seems little immediate prospect of the rebels overrunning Assad’s stronghold. The result is bloody stalemate.

I watched both sides mount assaults, some trying to gain just a house or two, others for bigger prizes, only to be forced back by sharpshooters, mortars or sprays of machinegun fire.

As in the ruins of Beirut, Sarajevo or Stalingrad, it is a sniper’s war; men stalk their fellow man down telescopic sights, hunting a glimpse of flesh, an eyeball peering from a crack, use lures and decoys to draw their prey into giving themselves away.

Fighting is at such close quarters that on one occasion a rebel patrol stumbled into an army unit inside a building; hand grenades deafened us and shrapnel shredded plaster, a sudden clatter of Kalashnikov cartridges and bullets coming across the cramped space gave way in seconds to the groans of the wounded.

From January 14, having reached Damascus from Lebanon by way of undercover opposition networks, I spent four weeks in Ain Tarma, Mleha, Zamalka, Irbin and Harasta – rebel-held areas forming a wedge whose apex lies less than a mile to the east of the walled Old City, with its ancient mosques, churches and bazaars.

Once bustling suburbs are all but empty of life, bar the fighters; six months of combat, of shelling and occasional air strikes have broken open apartment blocks to the winter winds of the high Syrian plateau and choked the streets with rubble.

BARRICADES

Battling the cold in woollen ski-hats or chequered keffiyeh scarves, swathed in layers of cotton and leather jackets, a few thousand unshaven men, many from nearby peasant villages, some who deserted Assad’s army, defend a patchwork of barricades and strongpoints, served by cars ferrying ammunition and rations and led by commanders using handheld radios and messenger runners.

Days are punctuated by regular halts for prayer in a conflict, now 23 months old, that has become increasingly one pitting Syria’s Sunni Muslim majority, stiffened by Islamist radicals, against Alawites led by Assad; they have support from Iran, from whose Shi’ite Islam their faith is derived.

Typical of the frontline routine was an attack that a couple of dozen men of the brigade Tahrir al-Sham – roughly “Syrian Freedom” – mounted in Ain Tarma on January 30, aiming to take over or at least damage an army checkpoint further up the lane.

I photographed one two-man fire team crouch against a breeze-block garden wall, about 50 meters from their target.

In blue jeans, sneakers and muffled against a morning chill, their role was to wait for comrades to hit the army position with rocket-propelled grenades then rake the soldiers with their AK-47 automatic rifles as they were flushed out into the open.

There was little to make a sound in the abandoned streets. The attackers whispered to each other under their breath.

Then two shots rang out. One of the two riflemen, heavy set and balding, screamed in pain and collapsed back on the tarmac.

The day’s assault was going wrong before it even started.

Another fighter crept over to help. Realizing the casualty was gravely hurt, two more came up and they dragged the man’s inert bulk back across the street, through a narrow gap to relative safety.

Battlefield first-aid is helpless in the face of single shot to the belly. The man died in minutes, his gut ripped through and his blood warming the bare concrete floor. But there was no time to mourn – the army was alerted to the squad’s presence.

As the rebels regrouped, a tank shell struck the deserted building, sending shattered concrete and dust raining down on us and the survivors ran for cover, ready to fight another day.

MASS ATTACK

Having captured large areas last July before the front lines again congealed in the capital, the rebels stepped up attacks last month, trying to weaken Assad’s grip on the outlying neighborhoods surrounding the fortified centre of Damascus and pushing across the main ring road in the neighborhood of Jobar.

Among the boldest offensive moves I saw was an assault by what appeared to be several hundred fighters on a sprawling army barracks in the Irbin district. It was striking for the level of coordination it displayed among numerous units which, lacking uniforms, donned bandannas in bright pinks, reds and oranges to identify their loyalties and reduce the risk of “friendly fire”.

One group also brought up a Soviet-built T-72 tank to take part in the February 3 attack. Crewed by men who evidently had been trained in the army, it may have had little ammunition, however.

The infantry skirmish for control of the barracks involved teams of fighters, their colorful headscarves at odds with grim faces and attempts at camouflage, stealing up to a two-meter perimeter wall that stretched for hundreds of meters around.

On a misty morning, they tried to maintain surprise, but once the shooting began there was no turning back, no sign these men might recently have been fearful civilians. They poured sustained rifle fire through gaps in the wall, tossed grenades over it and did what they could to avoid incoming rounds.

One man poked the head of a store-window manikin, fixed on a pole, into a hole in the perimeter, hoping a sniper could be tempted to betray his position. It was a wise precaution. I saw another man picked off later as he aimed through a similar gap.

By afternoon, helped by their tank, they had breached the defenses and were inside the compound, looking for enemies, intelligence and, especially, more weapons to carry off. They knew the position itself would be hard to hold – too big and open and vulnerable to familiar retaliatory air strikes.

In the end, at dusk, they pulled back. One commander said 150 of the attackers had been wounded and 20 were killed, a toll to add to the 70,000 the U.N. estimates have died in this war.

REBEL WEAPONRY

The bulk of the rebel armory is made up of Soviet- and Chinese-made AK-47s, similar to those among Assad’s troops. Most rebels have one, though not always many magazines of bullets. I also saw U.S.-made M4 carbines and Austrian Steyr assault rifles not commonly supplied to the Syrian government. Western-allied Sunni Arab leaders in the Gulf have been arming the fighters.

Snipers use Russian Dragunovs and I also saw an American Barrett, a heavy-caliber rifle capable of puncturing metal.

The rebels also have rocket-propelled grenades and some heavier anti-tank weapons – at least enough to discourage their opponents from trying to roll their armor through their lines.

One day, I watched a man fire an antiquated, probably 1960s vintage, Soviet B-10 recoilless rifle, a heavy, bazooka-style cannon normally mounted on a little trolley and weighing about 70 kg (150 pounds); the rebel fighter simply hefted it onto his shoulder and blasted a heavy round somewhere down the road.

Capable of improvising, I also saw men use a shotgun to blast a fuse-lit, home-made grenade at their enemy.

Further from the fighting lines, some vestiges of ordinary life goes on for those civilians who have not joined the army of refugees. Often without electricity or running water, residents try to survive; a few shops sell vegetables, or meat kebabs. Moving around, glimpses of normality can be startling, as I found, turning a corner to find children playing in the street.

Other surprises were less pleasant. One Saturday, January 26, I was following a rebel patrol in Mleha, crawling from house to house through holes smashed in walls to evade the snipers.

Just ahead, those in front emerged to find themselves face to face with some equally astonished soldiers. Gunfire, grenades and screams followed. I threw myself to the ground. Both sides quickly pulled back, the wounded gasping and dragged to safety.

The battle for Damascus grinds on.

(Writing by Dominic Evans and Alastair Macdonald, editing by Peter Millership and Giles Elgood)

In a month on the frontline, I saw them defend a swathe of
suburbs in the Syrian capital, mount complex mass attacks,
manage logistics, treat their wounded – and die before my eyes.

But as constant, punishingly accurate, mortar, tank and
sniper fire attested, President Bashar al-Assad’s soldiers on
the other side, often just a room or a grenade toss away, are
also well drilled, courageous – and much better armed.

So while the troops were unable to dislodge brigades of the
Free Syrian Army from devastated and depopulated neighbourhoods
just east of the city centre – and indeed made little effort to
do so – there seems little immediate prospect of the rebels
overrunning Assad’s stronghold. The result is bloody stalemate.

I watched both sides mount assaults, some trying to gain
just a house or two, others for bigger prizes, only to be forced
back by sharpshooters, mortars or sprays of machinegun fire.

As in the ruins of Beirut, Sarajevo or Stalingrad, it is a
sniper’s war; men stalk their fellow man down telescopic sights,
hunting a glimpse of flesh, an eyeball peering from a crack, use
lures and decoys to draw their prey into giving themselves away.

Fighting is at such close quarters that on one occasion a
rebel patrol stumbled into an army unit inside a building; hand
grenades deafened us and shrapnel shredded plaster, a sudden
clatter of Kalashnikov cartridges and bullets coming across the
cramped space gave way in seconds to the groans of the wounded.

From Jan. 14, having reached Damascus from Lebanon by way of
undercover opposition networks, I spent four weeks in Ain Tarma,
Mleha, Zamalka, Irbin and Harasta – rebel-held areas forming a
wedge whose apex lies less than a mile to the east of the walled
Old City, with its ancient mosques, churches and bazaars.

Once bustling suburbs are all but empty of life, bar the
fighters; six months of combat, of shelling and occasional air
strikes have broken open apartment blocks to the winter winds of
the high Syrian plateau and choked the streets with rubble.

BARRICADES

Battling the cold in woollen ski-hats or chequered keffiyeh
scarves, swathed in layers of cotton and leather jackets, a few
thousand unshaven men, many from nearby peasant villages, some
who deserted Assad’s army, defend a patchwork of barricades and
strongpoints, served by cars ferrying ammunition and rations and
led by commanders using handheld radios and messenger runners.

Days are punctuated by regular halts for prayer in a
conflict, now 23 months old, that has become increasingly one
pitting Syria’s Sunni Muslim majority, stiffened by Islamist
radicals, against Alawites led by Assad; they have support from
Iran, from whose Shi’ite Islam their faith is derived.

Typical of the frontline routine was an attack that a couple
of dozen men of the brigade Tahrir al-Sham – roughly “Syrian
Freedom” – mounted in Ain Tarma on Jan. 30, aiming to take over
or at least damage an army checkpoint further up the lane.

I photographed one two-man fire team crouch against a
breeze-block garden wall, about 50 metres from their target.

In blue jeans, sneakers and muffled against a morning chill,
their role was to wait for comrades to hit the army position
with rocket-propelled grenades then rake the soldiers with their
AK-47 automatic rifles as they were flushed out into the open.

There was little to make a sound in the abandoned streets.
The attackers whispered to each other under their breath.

Then two shots rang out. One of the two riflemen, heavy set
and balding, screamed in pain and collapsed back on the tarmac.

The day’s assault was going wrong before it even started.

Another fighter crept over to help. Realising the casualty
was gravely hurt, two more came up and they dragged the man’s
inert bulk back across the street, through a narrow gap to
relative safety.

Battlefield first-aid is helpless in the face of single shot
to the belly. The man died in minutes, his gut ripped through
and his blood warming the bare concrete floor. But there was no
time to mourn – the army was alerted to the squad’s presence.

As the rebels regrouped, a tank shell struck the deserted
building, sending shattered concrete and dust raining down on us
and the survivors ran for cover, ready to fight another day.

MASS ATTACK

Having captured large areas last July before the front lines
again congealed in the capital, the rebels stepped up attacks
last month, trying to weaken Assad’s grip on the outlying
neighbourhoods surrounding the fortified centre of Damascus and
pushing across the main ring road in the neighbourhood of Jobar.

Among the boldest offensive moves I saw was an assault by
what appeared to be several hundred fighters on a sprawling army
barracks in the Irbin district. It was striking for the level of
coordination it displayed among numerous units which, lacking
uniforms, donned bandannas in bright pinks, reds and oranges to
identify their loyalties and reduce the risk of “friendly fire”.

One group also brought up a Soviet-built T-72 tank to take
part in the Feb. 3 attack. Crewed by men who evidently had been
trained in the army, it may have had little ammunition, however.

The infantry skirmish for control of the barracks involved
teams of fighters, their colourful headscarves at odds with grim
faces and attempts at camouflage, stealing up to a two-metre
perimeter wall that stretched for hundreds of metres around.

On a misty morning, they tried to maintain surprise, but
once the shooting began there was no turning back, no sign these
men might recently have been fearful civilians. They poured
sustained rifle fire through gaps in the wall, tossed grenades
over it and did what they could to avoid incoming rounds.

One man poked the head of a store-window manikin, fixed on a
pole, into a hole in the perimeter, hoping a sniper could be
tempted to betray his position. It was a wise precaution. I saw
another man picked off later as he aimed through a similar gap.

By afternoon, helped by their tank, they had breached the
defences and were inside the compound, looking for enemies,
intelligence and, especially, more weapons to carry off. They
knew the position itself would be hard to hold – too big and
open and vulnerable to familiar retaliatory air strikes.

In the end, at dusk, they pulled back. One commander said
150 of the attackers had been wounded and 20 were killed, a toll
to add to the 70,000 the U.N. estimates have died in this war.

REBEL WEAPONRY

The bulk of the rebel armoury is made up of Soviet- and
Chinese-made AK-47s, similar to those among Assad’s troops. Most
rebels have one, though not always many magazines of bullets. I
also saw U.S.-made M4 carbines and Austrian Steyr assault rifles
not commonly supplied to the Syrian government. Western-allied
Sunni Arab leaders in the Gulf have been arming the fighters.

Snipers use Russian Dragunovs and I also saw an American
Barrett, a heavy-calibre rifle capable of puncturing metal.

The rebels also have rocket-propelled grenades and some
heavier anti-tank weapons – at least enough to discourage their
opponents from trying to roll their armour through their lines.

One day, I watched a man fire an antiquated, probably 1960s
vintage, Soviet B-10 recoilless rifle, a heavy, bazooka-style
cannon normally mounted on a little trolley and weighing about
70 kg (150 pounds); the rebel fighter simply hefted it onto his
shoulder and blasted a heavy round somewhere down the road.

Capable of improvising, I also saw men use a shotgun to
blast a fuse-lit, home-made grenade at their enemy.

Further from the fighting lines, some vestiges of ordinary
life goes on for those civilians who have not joined the army of
refugees. Often without electricity or running water, residents
try to survive; a few shops sell vegetables, or meat kebabs.
Moving around, glimpses of normality can be startling, as I
found, turning a corner to find children playing in the street.

Other surprises were less pleasant. One Saturday, Jan. 26, I
was following a rebel patrol in Mleha, crawling from house to
house through holes smashed in walls to evade the snipers.

Just ahead, those in front emerged to find themselves face
to face with some equally astonished soldiers. Gunfire, grenades
and screams followed. I threw myself to the ground. Both sides
quickly pulled back, the wounded gasping and dragged to safety.

The battle for Damascus grinds on.

(Writing by Dominic Evans and Alastair Macdonald, editing by
Peter Millership and Giles Elgood)

By Goran Tomasevic

One moment, I heard two incoming shots. I was already aiming my camera on these two Syrian rebels. I heard the scream and saw one of them get shot. He was still alive as I was shooting but dying as he was carried away.

There was intensive fighting as the rebel group I was with in a Damascus neighborhood was trying to overtake a government checkpoint some 50 meters away. There was another group of rebels who were supposed to fire rocket propelled grenades from a further distance away from the checkpoint. After that, the group I was with was meant to engage the soldiers manning the checkpoint.

At the checkpoint I could clearly see sandbags and tanks. I didn’t look at the tanks anymore because I needed to take cover. I pulled back a little to look for the best position to take pictures and how to be covered in the best possible way.

There were two rebels next to me and two rebels across the street. A couple of sniper shots were fired. They were clearly sniper shots, not Ak’s, as they came one by one. I could clearly see through the lens when they actually shot the rebel. The rebel next to him was also shot and injured but he should recover after being hit in the stomach.

Full Focus Gallery: Shot by a sniper

After the rebel was killed they pulled back maybe 20-30 meters and I took pictures of the body being taken out. The hole where the rebels had to drag the body through was really small and it was difficult to drag him through. There was a lot of fire as the rebels dragged him away.

A tank fired a couple of shells onto the top of the building and rubble fell down around us.

The rebels kept on fighting for a few hours. It was heavy, with a lot of RPGs and attacks on multiple sites. They pulled back after a couple of hours of intensive fighting and fired some mortar shells.

From what I’ve seen the fighting is up and down. The lines between the Free Syrian Army and the government army are pretty clear. Since I’ve been here it’s literally been going house by house. The other day there was a rebel next to me who was struck by shrapnel. The rebels and the government forces are close enough to be throwing hand grenades at one another. You can hear them shouting at each other.

The lines seem to be pretty much the same. One day the government takes a couple of houses and then the rebels take a couple of houses again so it is pushing back and forth.

I’m covering several of the neighborhoods in Damascus so I hear some airstrikes or mortar shells all the time. Something is happening all the time.

“Honestly, it was one of the most miserable days in my life. It was so disorganized.

The day before, there was still construction going on in the place where the Independence Day celebrations were to be held. Everyone had to queue for some press passes for maybe 3-4 hours but they gave press cards to NGOs and to everyone. Somehow, they managed to finish the construction but then totally screwed up with security in general. We didn’t know where to go. There were some stands up so we pushed here and there. They would kick us back and we would run around and they would pull us back again.

One moment, the bodyguards started to push everyone as they had invited so many people and they didn’t have seats for all of them. They weren’t hostile to the journalists but it was just so disorganized. It was so hot that there were people collapsing all around. I brought my water but there were no facilities anywhere – no toilets. The food was bad; everyone had problems with their stomachs. It was just a nightmare.”

Did you see many changes from when you were there in January?

“Honestly, no. They are still saying the same things: “Yeah, you have to understand we are a new country”. I asked a friend of mine who is there, “How long are they going to keep saying this? After all they have experience, they organized first elections, then a referendum, and now this and they didn’t learn anything.”

I knew before I went that it would be like this. I talked on the phone with my friend and he just laughed and said they didn’t do anything, that’s when I knew. The people though were excited; they showed up on the streets after midnight for the celebration. They were really excited and happy as it was a big moment for them.

Juba is maybe four or five paved streets. In the middle of the city you can find a herd of goats or see cows. Our journalist who is based in Juba rented us a room without a bathroom or toilet and it was next to the cattle market. But even for this room you still pay more than $100. You can have some toast for breakfast but if you want to have anything else, you have to pay another $10.

The food was so bad because they don’t have roads to transport in fresh goods. The airport is so small and it’s between 40-50 degrees Celsius (104-122 degrees Fahrenheit) all of the time. So, you can understand what sort of problems you have eating any food there. I was constantly sick. Nothing was fresh so you are running all night 250 meters to the toilet.

I was there two weeks this time. I used to stay longer but the conditions this time were the worst I had stayed in. Bizarrely, it was the first time I didn’t pick up any parasites or any amoebas. The first time I was there I picked up an amoeba, the second time a parasite. There are millions of mosquitoes that can carry deadly malaria. In neighboring Kenya they have a tropical hospital and when you arrive they say “Oh, you’ve been in Juba, come here and take this, this and this.” I was so careful with what I did this time or maybe I’ve just become resilient now.

If you want a positive story, perhaps we wait until I go somewhere else.”

“Goran, as ever, was up at first light and on the road heading south from Benghazi after the first night of western bombing. The Reuters multimedia team came upon a convoy of troops loyal to Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi who had been attacked. Goran carefully took up a position near the smoldering vehicles when munitions exploded and so was able to capture a wide selection of dramatic and iconic pictures. This coverage was the climax to Goran’s outstanding front line reporting from the rebel advance, retreat and western intervention.

His images scored an amazing number of online and newspaper front pages worldwide, with this defining moment published as widely as another historic Reuters war picture, a 2003 photograph of a U.S. soldier standing beside the toppled statue of Saddam Hussein – a picture also shot by Goran Tomasevic.”

For more information on Goran, here is a selection of his work with comments on Full Focus.

In a hotel lobby in Tobruk, a dozen men watched television
in silence as Gaddafi’s foreign minister began a news conference
in which he declared a halt to military operations which had
resulted in a U.N. resolution against Libya on Thursday.

“See how things change from night to day,” said Ashraf
Afgair, an unemployed man. “They are just trying to calm
international opinion. It’s a desperate attempt by Gaddafi to
cling to power,” he said.

Idris Khamis, a meteorologist, said: “They have reached the
end of the line. That’s why they are accepting the U.N.
decision. Otherwise it’s the same fate for Gaddafi as Hitler and
Mussolini.”

In Benghazi, where the rebel movement is based, reports of
continuing fighting in Ajdabiyah to the south fuelled scepticism
of Gaddafi’s intentions.

“It’s just on TV. In fact he fights now in Ajdabiyah. He is
trying to get more time. He is crazy and will fight till he
dies,” said Salah Hussein, 42, a travel agent.
Aisha Aftaita, a teacher, added: “Gaddafi is still firing
and shooting. He didn’t stop. He is trying to take back
Ajdabiyah. There is still heavy fighting there. He is trying to
fool everyone.”

Libya said it would “deal positively” with the U.N.
resolution. In a news conference broadcast live by Arab
satellite channels, Foreign Minister Moussa Koussa also said the
Tripoli government would respect human rights — a declaration
that triggered cynical laughter from the viewers in Tobruk.

“Can you believe what you are hearing,” said one, waving his
hand dismissively at the television screen.

“They talk about human rights. Do you see human rights when
a country bombs its own people. He won’t respect the U.N. It’s
just TV propaganda,” said Nasser Saeed.
Mohammed Farraj added: “Why did he not respect human rights
of the Libyan people from the start? We just want him to go.
Now.”
(Writing by Tom Perry in Cairo; Editing by Giles Elgood)

“It’s a great development. We are so thankful. Thousands
came out last night, families, everyone celebrating. But we are
waiting for it to be implemented. We are tired of talk,” said
Rajab Mohammed al-Agouri who left Benghazi late on Thursday.

Travelling with five children, he was one of many Libyans
who fled to Egypt after waiting weeks for the West to act on
rebel pleas to ground Gaddafi’s warplanes and stop an offensive
that has retaken swathes of rebel-held territory.

Some opponents of Gaddafi, while welcoming the resolution,
said it should not be used to send in ground forces and warned
it could inflame tension because Gaddafi loyalists have accused
those backing the resolution of being foreign “lackeys”.

“The no-fly zone is a great decision. It’s there for the
protection of women and children,” said Anis al-Majbouri, an
accountant travelling from Egypt to his family in Benghazi.

“But no Libyan will ever accept foreign soldiers coming to
protect us. The U.N. decision will make tension in the nation
rise. The Gaddafi supporters will say ‘you’re traitors,
collaborating with the foreigners’,” Majbouri said.

The U.N. Security Council passed a resolution late on
Thursday endorsing a no-fly zone to halt government troops now
100 km (60 miles) from Benghazi, where the rebels have set up an
informal administration, the Libyan National Council.

The resolution also authorised “all necessary measures” –
code for military action — to protect civilians against
Gaddafi’s forces, who have launched a land, sea and air
offensive on rebel-held territory.

“We are very happy and we have been celebrating since
Thursday. We will never forget the countries who supported us
and those who didn’t,” said 50-year-old policeman Abdel Sayyed
in Susah, about 200 km (125 miles) east of Benghazi.

“We now want to see them (Gaddafi and his allies) tried and
convicted by the courts,” he told Reuters.

MANY FEAR RETRIBUTION

But many in the rebel-held east fear retribution by Gaddafi,
who said on Thursday his forces were heading for Benghazi and
would show no mercy to fighters who resisted.

“We will not settle for anything but liberation for this
country’s people from this regime,” Libyan National Council head
Mustafa Abdel Jalil told Al Jazeera television.

“Our rebels and their determination are capable of defeating
them,” he said after Gaddafi’s speech late on Thursday and
before the U.N. resolution was passed. He repeated calls for
military intervention to protect civilians.

“The only reason we left was air strikes. We were overjoyed
when we heard the news. In Benghazi, people were firing in the
air, as were people in Tobruk,” said Mahmoud, who was also with
his family on the Egyptian border.

“It was like we’d won. But still, they should have done this
long ago,” the 32-year-old said.

The rebels moved westward from their stronghold of Benghazi
earlier this month, but in less than two weeks they have been
rolled back as Gaddafi’s better equipped forces re-took a series
of coastal towns, several with oil terminals.

Television images showed thousands of people in Benghazi
listening to Gaddafi’s speech, then erupting in celebration
after the U.N. vote, waving anti-Gaddafi tricolours and chanting
slogans against their leader of the past four decades.

Fireworks burst over the city and gunfire rang out.
(Additional reporting by Mohammed Abbas and Angus MacSwan in
Musaid, Libya; Writing by Edmund Blair in Cairo; editing by Tim
Pearce)

U.S. Marine Lance Corporal Chris Sanderson, 24, from Flemington, New Jersey shouts as he tries to protect an Afghan man and his child after Taliban fighters opened fire in the town of Marjah, in Nad Ali district, Helmand province, February 13, 2010. REUTERS/Goran Tomasevic

Serbian-born Reuters photographer Goran Tomasevic, 40, spent 10 days embedded with the First Battalion’s Bravo Company as it slowly advanced into Marjah, a smattering of small homes clustered together in groups — known as compounds — and local markets spread out across the desolate region. His photos capture the Marines, accompanied by a squad of Afghan soldiers, doing the grueling work of searching every house and rooting out Taliban snipers. The unit frequently encountered heavy enemy fire — one of Bravo Company’s soldiers was killed by a sniper on the operation’s first day.

U.S. Marines from Bravo Company of the 1st Battalion, 6th Marines climb a wall during an operation in the town of Marjah, in Nad Ali district of Helmand province February 16, 2010. REUTERS/Goran Tomasevic

“The Marines are at a real disadvantage because they are extremely careful about civilian casualties,” Tomasevic said. “The Taliban fire all the time, but the Marines won’t shoot if they suspect there are villagers around. They are very restrained.”

Tomasevic, who’s been in Afghanistan 10 times covering the war, said the latest push showed signs of progress.

“The Marines have the hardest job; they have to go in first and clear everything out. The Bravo Company covered a lot of ground, and physically it was very hard work. I must say that I congratulate them,” Tomasevic said.