The Scud missile launched from Iraq on Monday night was targeted at Tel Aviv, but it exploded instead on the outskirts of this Arab village.
Saddam Hussein may still be a hero to the Palestinians. But it is doubtful that many here still regard him as their savior. They know too well he might have been the agent of their destruction had the range of his missile been a few hundred yards longer.
It left its crater in an olive orchard at the end of town, near the front door of Taleb Ali Abdullah, who lives with his family in the southernmost house in Deir Balut.
“We were lucky,” 30-year-old Abdullah admitted to a visitor Tuesday morning. “We feel the pain of those who are victims of such attacks.”
One wonders. The young man’s attire was traditional. He sported a short beard that is a trademark of Hamas, the fundamentalist Islamic Resistance Movement, whose followers are generally the most zealous of the intifada activists.
But he sounded genuine. After all, God and Saddam Hussein’s erratic missile launchers had allowed him and his family to continue to live.
“We heard a loud shriek, then an explosion, and the entire building was shaking,” Abdullah recounted. “We did not dare leave the sealed rooms until the radio assured us that it was not a chemical missile. Then we looked outside and we saw smoke coming from the direction of the fields.”
On Tuesday morning there was nothing more than a huge trench between the orchard and a wheat field. The missile fragments were gone, probably scooped up by Israeli army experts who reached the site long before the news media.
NO MORE REJOICING HERE
The fields surrounding Abdullah’s house were deserted, as were the streets. But it was not fear of a missile attack that kept residents of Deir Balut and every other West Bank village indoors.
They are confined to their homes by the curfew that has been in effect in the administered territories since Jan. 17, the day war began in the Persian Gulf. The army is enforcing the curfew strictly because the local population supports Iraq.
For nights on end, Palestinians have climbed to their rooftops at the first sound of the airraid sirens. They have chanted and rejoiced at the knowledge that missiles were landing in the heart of the Jewish state.
After their close call Monday night, some here may be having second thoughts.
That does not mean Saddam Hussein has become any less popular. People are not quick to argue with the Palestinian consensus.
But they now have a respectable fear of death raining from the sky and some idea of how their neighbors to the west must feel.
Deir Balut is only a few miles east of the large Jewish towns of Petach Tikva and Rosh Ha’ayin. Missiles aimed at them could easily fall here, and the residents have not yet received their gas masks.
They sit in their gas-sealed rooms praying that the next missile does not strike here and that it does not carry a chemical warhead.
Nor does it seems likely they still wait in happy anticipation of another missile attack on Tel Aviv. It is too close to home, and after Monday night, they know better.
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