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Survivors describe deadly attack on Baghdad church

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Witnesses and authorities provided the following account of the attack:
The gunmen drove up to the church by way of a quiet street where, according to residents, authorities in recent days had removed cement barriers to open the way to traffic. The assailants, dressed in khaki pants and armed with AK-47 assault rifles, grenades and suicide vests, parked a gray Dodge sport-utility vehicle near the rear of the church.
When they began tossing bags across a seven-foot wall that rings the church, guards at a nearby branch of the Baghdad stock exchange became alarmed. A gunfight broke out, leaving two exchange guards dead.
The attackers detonated explosives that were in the vehicle, making nearby windows crack.
A second blast thundered near the rear door of the church, ramming it open. Some officials said a grenade caused the explosion, while others suggested the trigger was a suicide vest.
Sabeeh, the priest, was among the first people executed after the assailants got inside. Another priest, Thaer Abdullah, was also killed.
Throngs of Iraqi authorities gathered outside the church as U.S. military helicopters hovered overhead.
Inside the church, about 60 parishioners were huddled in the safe room, praying and crying, when one of the assailants tossed a grenade inside, Sami said.
"There was unbelievable fear among the people," he said. "I cannot describe what we've been through."
Shortly after 9 p.m., after realizing that hostages had been executed, a team of U.S.-trained Iraqi commandos stormed into the church from all sides. At least five suicide bombers detonated explosives, killing seven of the troops.
U.S. officials said the Iraqis realized the operation was risky but deemed it necessary in light of the loss of life that took place during the early phase of the siege.
"They responded out of necessity," a U.S. official briefed on the operation said Monday. "There was a real possibility that they would have killed all the hostages inside."
Members of the Assyrian church stood outside Monday morning and wept as they stared at the building's blood-streaked walls. Most of the church's windows were shattered, as were plaques from graves in the church's outer patio.
"We have nothing left here," Juloud Peshtu said as she stood outside. "We are the minority. We cannot defend ourselves. We cannot stay in this country anymore."
Amjed Majeed, who lives across the street from the church, watched as senior Iraqi government officials, trailed by heavily armed men, walked in and out of the church.
"No one came here to ask us how we're doing," he said angrily, standing outside his now-windowless two-story house. "No one asked how the children are doing. No one came to offer us compensation."
Special correspondent Aziz Alwan contributed to this report.