i translated a reaction posted by a guy in /r/france so yall english speaking people could feel what he felt last night.
I was in the bataclan tonight. I went home an hour ago but I can't find sleep anyway. I don't got the full story, the situation quickly made that we didn't had any visibility on the terrorists objectives, the room, etc. I give my feelings, "my" version.
When we heard "fireworks", I was in the pit close to the stairs when terrorists entered and i directly ran towards the scene on the right side, by reflex. In my "space", everybody was wrapped around in non-probable positions et painful for everybody, face against the floor, the head set on anything close, a leg for exemple. With on the bottom a bloodbath.
And it's how the worst game i every played began. The waiting game. An harmful silence in the room only broken by erratic gunshots. No timers, no logic, nothing. Just, sometimes, a gunshot. And you're wondering if the next shot is for you.
Waiting the arrival of the police, without any notion of time (no watch, cellphone unreachable). Feel people stand up to get slaughter immediately. And again, and again... No right to move because a single movement rise the pains -yours and the other ones (we were really wrapped up). No right to walk, to whisper, nothing. Somebody start crying? This person is welcomed by collectives "ssshhh".
Terrorists didn't said anything, except at the beginning something about Syria, Hollande (our president) and the fact that it was only the beginning. At the start, they're "exploring" the location, shooting randomly lying people. Then we didn't see them. Then we heard gunshots.
Impossible to stand up quickly and to run away from me, all my muscle are asleep and no way to have a view of the room without potentially cross a terrorist eyes, a chance i didn't dare to take. I bet everything on the police. We say to ourselves that in a case like that, the whole army should be running even the Charles-de-Gaulle (our aircraft ship) on the Seine, that somebody if going to enter and do something.
We obviously have no idea of the simultaneous events in République and the Stade de France. And nobody comes. Gunshots continue. And we keep waiting, playing lottery with the terrorists. With awful thoughts like: "please, not me, aim the other side of the room". These thoughts are interrupted by gunshots .
At a moment (let say the "middle"?My time notion is more than corrupted), an explosion blew. By other witnesses, it's a grenade they threw on the pit. I can't confirm, only that it was an explosion. And that's when the waiting game take an other side. They got explosives. Fanatics armed with explosives without revendication... Your brain as the gift to directly think of the worst: we aren't a trade value.
I'm naturally wondering if the goal isn't simply to blow the whole building or at least us. The waiting isn't the same at all. Time become longer. Pain intensified. People panics/suffers more and more. Phone rings more and more because close relatives try to have news, an other stress bringer (no noise!). We're looking to comfort in eyes-games with the few people we see to finally find the same fear.
Where is the police? What is she doing? We start to really desperate interiorly. Finally, somebody whispers "police is here". Then everything change. Time become even more longer because she doesn't intervene right away (scouting, etc). At this time I think that terrorists went up somewhere in the bataclan because policemen came in without shooting.
Then a herd of policemen come in. When standing up, helping other to stand up, seeing policemen in armor storm the bataclan... It was an undescriptible release. We're looking to each other, blessed to be alive. We stay obviously cautious. Police doesn't know if terrorist are with us or elsewhere (I couldn't tell).
Finally they went elsewhere according to intel. We start walking, hands in the head, closely happy interiorly. It's again quickly stopped by THE vision of NIGHTMARE. Dozens of bodies, people agonizing, a sea of blood in the pit. Awful. Horrible. I look the zone in which I was before running to the bottom and I see several bodies. It could have been easily me.
I go out quickly, still having my hands on the head, seeing the entrance personnel of the bataclan lying on the floor (the "fireworks" we heard before terrorist came in). A few steps and I collapse. A torrent of tears. I don't even remember last time I cried before tonight, but no way i stop. I'm shaking. But i'm alive. Finally, we are regrouped in cafés of the next street, blessful to had make it and take our cellphones to give some news. And we learn about all the other things. République, Stade de France, etc.
What a fucking pity. All this for what? I don't bring any essential news through this text but it feel good. It's "frustating" to be in the event and be helpless, stay face on the ground/leg/arm/etc. During 2-3 hours not helping. Translation stop here. I hope I delivered the same emotion.
