The three rockets came out of a blue sky with a sound something between a howl and a hiss, exploding with harsh, dry detonations on the far side of the hill from the rebel field hospital outside Sirte.
The staff here, at a converted roadside diner, hardly had time to pick themselves up off the tarmac before the first casualties came in.
A rebel soldier was rushed in on a maroon stretcher, his combat trousers torn, a mass of blood soaking through his T-shirt.