An infernal screech fills the air, followed by a huge splash as I spot a Russian rocket smashing into the water about 100 metres in front of where our small speedboat is cruising along. I hit the deck and curl into a ball, as I hear other rockets flying towards us. For the first time in my life, I understand the phrase ‘sitting ducks’.
Floating in the water like this, we can’t run for cover, we can only bury our heads and pray. “I’ve just decided I’m going to ask my girlfriend to marry her next week, so we have to make it out of this!” says the Dutch correspondent next to me in the boat as he puts his hand on my shoulder.
