“It was like 30 or 40 thunderbolts falling from the sky,” recounted Ahnaf Bin Hasan, an 18-year-old student, his voice still trembling days after the incident.
“I’ve never heard a sound like that in my life – it came from the sky. In a split second, the fighter jet flew over my head and crashed into the school building.”
The Bangladesh Air Force F-7 aircraft plummeted from the sky and struck the primary school building of Milestone School and College in Dhaka on Monday, marking one of Bangladesh’s most devastating aviation disasters in recent decades.
Reports indicate at least 31 fatalities, many of whom were schoolchildren under the age of 12, waiting for pickup, en route to coaching classes, or grabbing a quick snack.
Ahnaf, clad in his school uniform, was conversing with a friend under a canopy on the playground of the expansive 12-acre campus of Milestone School and College in the bustling Uttara neighborhood. He states he was approximately 30 feet away when the jet nosedived into the building.
Instinctively, Ahnaf dropped to the ground, shielding his head. Upon opening his eyes, he witnessed a drastically altered landscape.
“All I could see was smoke, fire, and darkness. Children were screaming. Everything was chaos,” he conveyed to the BBC via telephone.
The Air Force indicated that the aircraft, engaged in a training flight, experienced a mechanical malfunction shortly after takeoff. The pilot, who ejected prior to the crash, subsequently succumbed to injuries in the hospital.
“I witnessed the pilot eject,” Ahnaf stated. “Post-crash, I observed his white parachute descending. He breached the tin roof of another structure. I heard reports of his survival upon landing, even requesting water. A helicopter arrived and transported him away.”
As smoke and flames engulfed the school, Ahnaf’s instincts took over. A flaming fragment from the burning aircraft struck his backpack, singeing his trousers and scorching his hand. “It was intensely hot, but I discarded the bag and rushed to assist.”
He proceeded toward the concrete walkway separating the playground from the two-story primary school building. The aircraft impacted the gate, penetrating several feet into the ground, before tilting upward, crashing into the first floor, and detonating. Two classrooms, named Cloud and Sky, became the epicenter of the devastation.
Near the entrance, Ahnaf encountered the dismembered remains of a student.
“It appeared the plane had struck him prior to colliding with the building,” he recounted. “He was younger than us.”
The five-building campus, typically vibrant with student activity, had transformed into a scene of fire, fragmented metal, and screams.
Amidst the smoke, Ahnaf identified a junior student, his skin scorched, rescued from the blaze by a friend.
“His friend appealed to me, ‘I can’t do this alone. Can you assist?’ Consequently, I lifted the boy, placed him on my shoulder, and transported him to the medical room.”
Another woman was ablaze. Children fled the building, stripped to their undergarments, their clothing burned away, their skin blistering from the intense heat.
“On the second floor, students were trapped and screaming,” Ahnaf stated. “We breached a grille to access one of the gates, which was on fire. The army and fire service arrived and rescued some of them.”
Ahnaf, along with many others, assumed responsibilities far exceeding their age.
“We assisted in controlling the crowds, keeping people away from the fire. We cleared pathways for ambulances and aided fire service personnel in extending their hoses across the campus.”
At one juncture, he literally gave the shirt off his back.
“One student was completely unclothed. I removed my uniform and gave it to him. I continued the rescue effort bare-bodied.”
However, the burden of the young lives lost at the school is a weight he anticipates will be difficult to overcome.
Among the deceased was 11-year-old Wakia Firdous Nidhi.
She had walked to school that morning like any other day. At the time of the crash, her father was at prayer – he rushed barefoot from the mosque upon hearing the news.
Her uncle, Syed Billal Hossain, shared that the family spent the entire night searching numerous hospitals.
“We walked across Uttara, helpless. Someone reported six bodies at one hospital. At one in the morning on Tuesday, her father identified her – by her teeth and an anomaly in her eye. However, we have yet to receive her body.”
The anguish of losing a child was further complicated by bureaucratic hurdles.
Despite identifying their daughter through dental characteristics and a lens in her eye, the family was informed that the body would not be released without DNA testing, due to multiple claimants.
Initially, a police report was required. Subsequently, the father provided a blood sample at the military hospital. They are now awaiting the mother’s sample. “We are certain it’s her,” Mr. Hossain affirmed. “Yet, they still refuse to release the body.”
Wakia, the youngest of three siblings, resided next door to her uncle in an ancestral home in Diabari. “She grew up before our eyes – playing on rooftops, sitting under the coconut tree next to our house, always holding her baby niece. She was just a child, and she adored children,” Mr. Hossain recounted.
“I saw her only the day before,” he said. “Had it not been for that after-school coaching, she would still be alive.”
Amidst the chaos and heartbreak following the crash, instances of narrow escapes and extraordinary courage emerged.
One mother shared with BBC Bengali that she had given her child money for food instead of packing a lunch that morning. During the break, he went out to purchase food, unknowingly averting death by chance. “He is alive because I didn’t provide him with lunch,” she stated.
Another parent’s tragedy was beyond comprehension, losing both his children within hours. His daughter passed away first. After burying her, he returned to the hospital, only to awaken from a brief nap and be informed that his young son had also died.
And then there was Mahreen Chowdhury. The teacher, responsible for children in Classes 3 to 5, assisted at least 20 students in escaping the inferno.
Refusing to abandon her post, she repeatedly re-entered the flames, until her body suffered burns covering over 80% of its surface. Chowdhury died a hero, saving the lives of those too young to save themselves.
For the school’s staff, the experience is akin to living in a nightmare.
“I can no longer function normally. Each time I look at the building, a wave of grief overwhelms me. I feel lost, unwell, and depressed. I’ve lost three children I knew, one of whom was my colleague’s child,” stated Shafiqul Islam Tultul, a 43-year-old Bengali teacher.
In the aftermath, questions and confusion have arisen regarding the magnitude of the tragedy.
The government has reported 29 deaths and over 100 injuries, with seven victims remaining unidentified. However, the military’s Inter-Services Public Relations (ISPR) cites a toll of 31.
According to the Health Ministry, 69 individuals sustained injuries in the crash and subsequent rescue efforts, including 41 students.
Social media platforms have been rife with speculation regarding a potential cover-up, allegations that the Bangladesh Armed Forces have vehemently denied. Meanwhile, the school’s head teacher, Khadija Akhter, informed BBC Bengali that families have reported five individuals still missing.
For the eyewitnesses and survivors, the trauma persists.
“I haven’t slept for two days,” Ahnaf says. “Every time I look outside, I feel like a fighter jet is coming at me. The screams are still ringing in my ears.”
Fighter jets and commercial airplanes frequently traverse the airspace above the campus, which is situated near Dhaka’s international airport. “We’re in the flight path,” Ahnaf stated.
“We are accustomed to seeing planes overhead, but we never envisioned one plummeting from the sky and striking us.”
Yet, the horrors of that day relentlessly haunt him. The screams, the fire, and the charred remains of classmates and teachers remain vivid in his memory.
“When I close my eyes, I don’t see darkness – I see smoke.”
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