"Today this is finished. We are going to end this now. Sirte is ours!" shouted Commander Amin El Turki to his men, their rows of heavy machine guns pointed to the city.
Battered T55 tanks, rocket launcher trucks and fighters moved in formation across the expanse of flat scrubland towards the southern city gates.
In scenes reminiscent of a full-scale war hundreds of rockets ripped across the dawn sky and the deafening boom of tank rounds filled the air. Men in battered green metal helmets hunkered in the sand as streaks of red tracer fire from the incoming enemy bullets strafed the field.
"Ciao Ciao Gaddafi!" screamed rebel fighter Salah Ismail manically, exhilarated as he sent a Milan rocket crashing into a building on the horizon.
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