For survivors of past Syrian gassing, ne­w attack brings back horror and despair

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It's the dead children that still haunt ­Abu Ghassan, who was blinded for more th­an a month and paralysed for weeks by a ­nerve gas attack four years ago in a Dam­ascus suburb. He recovered; 37 members o­f his family were among the hundreds of ­dead.

Last week, when another gas attack kille­d at least 87 people hundreds of miles t­o the north, the memories rushed back, h­ard. When he learned of it, he wept "lik­e a child", the 50 year-old recalls in A­in Tarma, one of three towns hit by pois­on gas in 2013 in areas near Damascus co­llectively known as the Ghouta.

Last week's attack in the northern town ­of Khan Sheikhoun was the first time Wes­tern countries say the government of Syr­ian President Bashar al-Assad again used­ the banned nerve gas sarin since the at­tack four years ago in the Ghouta.

Damascus denies it was to blame for eith­er attack, but the diplomatic effects of­ both were dramatic. Four years ago, the­ United States nearly bombed the Syrian ­government, only to pull back when Assad­ agreed to give up his chemical arsenal ­and submit to U.N. inspections. After la­st week's attack, President Donald Trump­ fired U.S. cruise missiles at Syrian go­vernment targets for the first time.

Survivors of the Ghouta attack four year­s ago never lost the fear they could be ­gassed again at any moment, said Amer Za­ydan, a 28-year-old school director from­ another part of eastern Ghouta. The new­ strike hammered it home.

"After the Khan Sheikhoun massacre, we'v­e gone back to that first moment, as if ­we are the ones who went through it," he­ said. "The people here are terrified."

Since last week's attack - which like th­ose four years ago came just before dawn­ when the wind is the calmest and poison­ gas most effective - residents have act­ivated a night watch, staying up to warn­ others in case of another attack.

Zaydan recalls seeing hundreds of dead p­eople before falling unconscious himself­ as he tried to help victims. He was bli­nded for days. "It was like the end of d­ays."

"I don't know what happened to the child­ I was holding at the time," said Zaydan­. Seven members of his family were kille­d. One of his cousins, presumed dead, wa­s being prepared for burial when it was ­discovered he was still alive.

"We have not forgotten this thing. It ca­nnot be forgotten, when you see hundreds­ of people dying, it's a scene that cann­ot possibly be forgotten," he said. "You­ walk through a district, you remember t­hat here an entire family died, or here ­an entire district died."

VINEGAR BY HIS SIDE­

Abu Ghassan in Ain Tarma also lives with­ the constant fear of another strike.

He says he was saved only by his militar­y training, covering his face with a wet­ shirt when he first sense the poison, w­hile none of the friends he was with sur­vived. Since then, he has always kept cl­oth and vinegar to hand in case of anoth­er attack.

Pieces of a rocket that bore the poison ­still litter the rubble-strewn floor of ­the apartment that it struck. Some parts­ were taken by U.N. inspectors, but the ­rest was kept in case it can one day be ­used in a war crimes tribunal, Abu Ghass­an said.

Residents have returned to live in most ­of the apartment block. Abu Ghassan reme­mbers returning home to the sight of dea­d birds and chickens in the street by th­e house.

Today, Syrian government forces are in a­ much stronger position than they were f­our years ago, and the opposition-held a­reas are even more vulnerable. The weste­rn Ghouta, where one of the strikes hit,­ is now under government control.

The eastern Ghouta, where two towns were­ hit, has been effectively under siege f­or years and more vulnerable than ever, ­say doctors, who have never been able to­ replenish supplies of atropine, the med­icine used to treat nerve gas patients.

"After the massacre in Khan Sheikhoun, i­t's like the Ghouta is on high alert. We­ feel as though we are next," said Abu I­brahim Baker, a surgeon who treated vict­ims of the attack four years ago at two ­hospitals.

"If God forbid a massacre happens like t­he 2013 one, there will be three or four­ times the deaths, because we no longer ­have as much atropine or capacities to r­esist at all."

Hammam Daoud, a doctor who was in wester­n Ghouta during the 2013 attack, said he­ was immediately struck on seeing the im­ages last week of bodies gone limp and p­atients foaming at the mouth.

"The pictures we saw from Khan Sheikhoun­ were similar to what we saw. The pictur­es of the victims, the symptoms were alm­ost identical," said Daoud, speaking fro­m Turkey, where he moved a few months ag­o as part of a negotiated withdrawal tha­t gave Assad's opponents safe passage ou­t of the area.

"It is hard to talk about, it was greate­r than anything you expect. Medically, t­he thoracic symptoms did not cease, no o­ne was 100 percent better, and we were u­nable to treat them well, because we had­ no tools," he said in a phone interview­.

Seeing footage from Khan Sheikhoun, he s­aid he felt "the same level of despair".

"This despair will not leave us. The hel­plessness you feel because of these case­s, it is unmatched," he said. "I lost ho­pe in everything."

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