The Sun
President Bashar al-Assad believes that whoever controls Aleppo will win the civil war and has stepped up the bombardment there.
There are unverified reports his regime has even used napalm in Darayya, west of Damascus.
Meanwhile, rebels have launched an offensive to lift the siege.
Here, writing under a pseudonym, Syria-born charity worker, Ahmed Khalid, working with Save The Children alongside aid workers in Aleppo delivers a shocking dispatch on the broken city.
ALEPPO is a city of orphans. Around 40 per cent of those left in the besieged city are children — and many have lost at least one parent.
With bombs falling for 18 hours a day, this is a terrifying place to grow up.
All the schools have closed, as a group of children gathered in one place would be too much of a target.
Time running out…nearly 300,000 people are trapped in the city without access to food or basic medical supplies
So the kids make their own amusement, hunting in the wreckage for bits of shrapnel to play with, or filling bomb craters with water to form makeshift paddling pools.
Conflict has raged in Aleppo since 2011, so many younger children do not remember a time before the war.
Theirs are very grown-up concerns.
When once they might have worried about getting a bad grade in school or losing their football, they now worry about putting food on the family table.
They lie awake at night fearful of the next air strike.
One aid worker in Aleppo told me of the horrifying scene awaiting his ambulance after a recent attack.
He said: “A child of less than ten ran to me shouting, ‘Sir, please put my arm back!’ His left arm was amputated and he held it with his right hand. He was begging me to put it back. This is just one of many tragedies we saw.”
The horror and misery take your breath away.
Before the war, I was a tour guide.
I took groups of foreign tourists around Syria, showing them our rich culture, fascinating history and natural beauty.
Then the war came. Now all I have to show is the suffering of my people.
In Aleppo — Syria’s second city and one of the world’s oldest major settlements — the situation is desperate.
For almost two weeks the only road in and out has been closed.
No one can get out. No equipment or supplies can get in.
Meanwhile, Aleppo continues to suffer intense bombardment.
Between 20 and 30 attacks take place every day, targeting vital infrastructure, hospitals and homes.
Young and old alike have been left crippled, maimed or dead.
Even aid agencies are targeted.
Just a few weeks ago, a warehouse containing 10,000 food parcels was burned down in a bomb attack.
Food is scarce and prices have soared to ridiculous highs.
People try to grow their own.
Cases of malnutrition are on the up and will worsen if the siege continues.
Young children are most at risk.
Hospitals are short of supplies and staff.
An emergency room in a field hospital will have just five or six beds but may have to deal with 30 or 40 injured people after each attack.
Heartbreaking…Many children do not know a time before war
Many patients are treated on hospital floors.
There are perhaps ten specialist doctors left in Aleppo and fewer than 300 people working across the health service.
Equipment is damaged and basic provisions are running out.
One of the biggest concerns is fuel.
To conserve supplies, ambulances just attend air strikes, while hospital machines are only switched on for extreme cases.
Victims who need limbs amputated or have neurological injuries were previously transferred to Turkey for treatment.
That is no longer possible.
As a result, the death rate is spiralling, particularly among children.
How much longer can the people of Aleppo survive?
It is impossible to say.
But if they run out of fuel, the situation will be catastrophic within two weeks.
Without fuel they will have no electricity, no drinking water and the hospitals will be unable to function.
The tragedy is that the people trapped inside Aleppo are among the most vulnerable in Syria.
When the bombardment started, they chose not to leave — because they had no money for transportation or they did not believe a vast refugee camp would be any safer.
Those who stayed were poor and mostly women, children and older men.
Every day, life in the city gets more dangerous.
One of my colleagues from a local Syrian charity working on the ground told me:
“Life in Aleppo city is becoming more like living next to an active volcano.
“At any moment you could be covered with lava. You don’t know when you will be killed. Life is becoming more like hell.”
There is little chance of escape.
So-called “humanitarian corridors” were opened to help people leave safely — and some families tried to do so.
But the corridors were reportedly targeted with machine guns and artillery, so civilians refuse to use them, fearing a trap.
Life is bad enough for adults but it is even worse for the children.
They are not getting the psychological support they need to cope with living in constant fear, witnessing the deaths of relatives and friends, the destruction of the buildings and streets they know.
They hear constant talk about how worse could be coming.
Most adults would struggle to cope with the sorrow and horror.
But these children are not like ordinary children.
In many cases, they have become the main breadwinner for their family.
One child I met was doing an immensely dangerous job in the fuel market, where there is a constant risk of fire or explosion — and no safety measures.
He talked to me about the rent that needed paying, his electricity bills and how this was the only job that paid well enough to provide for his mother and four-year-old sister.
It is a horrifying situation but the people of Aleppo have not been completely abandoned.
Many brave aid workers from Save The Children’s partner agencies continue to work tirelessly, against all the odds.
Ambulance drivers, health workers, doctors and teachers run secret classes in basements.
One doctor describes the countless times he has found himself in the operating theatre as air-raid sirens go off, working even as shells fall around his clinic.
“I have children of my own,” he says.
“I should not be risking my life like this.
“It’s like suicide.
“But how can I walk away?”
He refuses to abandon the people for whom he is the last remaining hope.
And it is easy to feel helpless.
After five years of war, I am exhausted. I feel like I can’t take any more tragedy.
I am no longer the same person I was before.
But the spirit of these brave volunteers makes me feel small — how they battle on despite the hopelessness of the situation.
The world can do something.
We can support the brave aid workers by supporting the organisations they work for, ensuring they have the supplies and equipment they need.