Quotes of the Day

The large rock flying past the windscreen raised the alarm.

For the previous two days TIME had traveled with impunity through the Dili suburbs of Becora and Fatuahi, where residents of the East Timorese capital had been engaged in running battles, armed with knifes, bows and arrows, spears and swords. The fighting was based on regional rivalry, pitting local residents who originate from the eastern provinces of East Timor against those from the west, echoing the emotions raging through the country.

West of the capital, in the Gleno district, almost 600 disgruntled soldiers had gathered, deserters from the regular force who claim they are discriminated against because of their western heritage. The rebel soldiers had fled to the hills above Dili on April 28, after staging a demonstration that was violently suppressed by police and regular army—the majority of whom hailed from the east.

The brutal response to the demonstration prompted a number of heavily armed military police, led by Australian-trained Major Alfredo Reinaldo, to leave the capital; Reinaldo says he did not want to get caught up in the "illegal use" of the army. The two groups refused to lay down their weapons and holed up outside the capital while calling for the regular army to disarm, and for an investigation to be launched into their grievances.

On Monday, as text messages zipped through the country's phone network warning of violence, the residents of Becora and Fatuahi began to fight along the main road leading east over a small mountain on the outskirts of Dili. Both sides happily gave interviews, each claiming they acted in self-defense. "They attacked us from over the hill," says machete-toting local farmer Antonio Jesus, whose loyalties lie with the East. "They came during the day and chased us away and they burn the houses." But up on the hill, masked youths, who refused to rise up out of the grass to be photographed, claimed they were the ones who had been attacked.

As the skirmishes continued late on Monday, police from the rapid intervention unit arrived, ready for trouble. Fingers on the triggers of their M-16 rifles and clad in the latest bulletproof vests, the officers stormed into the shanty houses and shops firing shots into the air and low across the roofs. Shortly afterwards a second contingent of officers arrived—this time wearing the plain green military-style uniform of the Reserve Police—and headed for the hills above the suburbs, where the residents from the west had congregated to wave their knives and shout their victory cries. Adding to the confusion, a truckload of regular soldiers roared through the chaos on their way to the barracks at Metinaro, about 24 km further east, traveling along the road that separated the combatants.

A few minutes later, a crackle of automatic fire echoed down from the hills. A United Nations police advisor later told TIME the gunshots may have been an accident—the regular soldiers firing at the reserve police, mistaking them for other combatants. But the damage was done. As darkness fell, the reserve police decided to stay on the hill, while in the village below the rapid intervention force packed up. "We're going for dinner," was all one would say from the back of the truck.

Calm descended over the two suburbs until about 9.30am Tuesday morning. When TIME drove up into the hills, the youths who the day before had yelled greetings waved their fists from the ridges before bracketing the car with a rain of rocks. Further down the road a large crowd of men from the eastern faction headed up towards them. Some were brandishing pitchforks, but the weapons of choice were large machetes and slingshots that fired lethal six-inch darts.

Within seconds the road became a melee of running men, yelling, throwing rocks into the bushes and firing their darts. Regular police from the Dili district arrived and began to walk up road to try to prevent the fighting, but suddenly the sound of automatic gunfire started and they swiftly fell back. The sporadic firing became heavy and then faded. Later, soldiers from the 1st Battalion, speaking anonymously, told TIME an ambush had been set up on the mountain road by soldiers loyal to the breakaway Military Police. "They killed Sergeant Sucu Nacles," says one soldier. "They shot him through the face while he was sitting in the truck. It was clearly an ambush."

But others suggested it might have been the reserve police who had remained up on the hill. Reinforcements from the regular army quickly arrived and fanned out. For two hours the battle continued sporadically, with the regular army moving in from the east across the top of the hills, while the soldiers in Becora pushed upwards. Their enemy was rarely visible, but wearing green uniforms and armed with Steyr rifles. During the battle a second regular soldier was reported killed and six wounded. Rebel sources told TIME one military police officer had been killed and four wounded.

During the battle an Australian journalist was caught in crossfire as he interviewed the leader of the breakaway military police. The journalist, David O'Shea from SBS, later said he had been interviewing Reinaldo when a regular army soldier appeared near Reinaldo's location. O'Shea told reporters Reinaldo had called out "Stop, we only want dialogue," but the soldier had continued, prompting Reinaldo to shoot him with a sniper rifle.

By Tuesday night the battle at Becora and Fatuahi appeared to have stopped, but at 7.30 the next morning the second breakaway military faction launched a fresh assault—appearing to attack the military headquarters in Tasi-Tolu, about 6km west of the city center. Army sources told TIME that 10 truckloads of rebel soldiers had launched the attack. Reinforced by heavily armed rapid intervention police from the west, the rebels had gained the high ground and were peppering the main road west of the headquarters with machine gun fire.

The battle led to the East Timorese military calling in its sole Naval Patrol boat. The vessel used its .50-caliber machine gun to fire on the hills west of the headquarters but was forced to retreat out to sea after coming under fire from the slopes. At midday further shots could be heard on Dili's southern outskirts, and firing was reported near a market on the main road leading south from the capital.

Government sources told TIME this evening [5:20 pm Dili time Wednesday] that they expected an official announcement later tonight that a request for an international intervention force has been made; the force was to be drawn from Australia, New Zealand, Malaysia and Portugal.

For the terrified Timorese families piling onto trucks to flee the capital tonight, any such intervention cannot come too soon.

• RORY CALLINAN/DILI
• In the Timorese capital of Dili, regional rivalries have broken out into pitched battles