I have been in Rabaa for several days, and most of the Islamists I spoke to were at pains to avoid criticizing the Army. Ranks of Brotherhood even lined up to protect the gates of a military-administration building. Plenty were carrying big bamboo sticks, but I saw no guns or knives, and the atmosphere was friendly and peaceful.
On Monday morning, they were building low walls, using dug-up paving stones as bricks and as barricades. Some with bloodstained T-shirts, some with bandaged foreheads from bird shot, they gathered around any foreign journalist, holding up spent bullet casings with the initials of the Egyptian Armed inscribed on them, desperate to have their story told. People I spoke to in a smallish crowd at a corrugated iron barricade, behind the barbed-wire front line, claimed that the Army had massacred people as they prayed. “Is this the democracy the Americans called for?” “A bullet grazed the forehead of the man standing next to me!” “There were Army snipers on the roofs!” “They shot tear gas!” “This is just another military coup!”
As I listened to them, I was startled by a cracking noise that might have been a double gunshot, or might have been part of the adjacent building, which was still on fire, collapsing. Minutes later, some tear gas wafted over and a man, almost unconscious and gasping for air, was sped away on a motorcycle for treatment. Funerals for the dead went on throughout the afternoon.