AP reporter describes intense Israeli attacks that stunned Beirut

BEIRUT (AP) — It was 2:14 in the afternoon when the first bomb fell, and the sudden sound of crashing metal was like a heavy truck had overturned outside our office. The Israeli strike had hit somewhere nearby.

Within seconds, plumes of smoke were rising across Beirut’s skyline, from the coastal corniche, down to the city’s busiest intersection, up from one of its wealthiest neighborhoods and one of its poorest. Boom. Boom. Boom. We stopped counting. One staffer ran into the office from downstairs, her face white and lips trembling.

During the 10 years that Beirut has been my home, the Lebanese capital has lived through rounds of Israeli bombing, Israel’s detonation of pagers belonging to Hezbollah members and a devastating port explosion in 2020. But Wednesday was the first time it felt like the city had been left breathless.

In a span of 10 minutes, Israel says it hit 100 targets in Lebanon. Most were in Beirut. Over 300 people were killed, including more than 100 women, children and elderly. Late night TV shows said it rivaled one of the worst days during Israel’s 1982 invasion of Beirut — in August of that year, when roughly 300 people were killed over some 10 hours of bombardment.

Before Wednesday's bombardment, many Lebanese had hoped that a ceasefire announced hours earlier in the Iran war would bring a pause in the more than a month of fighting between Israel and the Iran-backed militant group Hezbollah.

It is still not clear what the targets were. Israel said it hit Hezbollah command and control centers, but the only Hezbollah official it reported killing was an aide to the group’s secretary-general.

As bombs fell, panicked commuters got stuck in traffic while trying to rush home to move their families, unsure where Israel may hit next. Others made frantic calls on an overwhelmed communication network, looking for loved ones or yelling at relatives to pack up and leave. Confused drivers stared at the acrid black and white smoke billowing over the city, trying to determine which road to take.

In the stricken areas, the mayhem was on another level. People’s faces were covered in black soot. At one of Beirut’s busiest intersections, on Corniche al-Mazraa, an Associated Press photographer saw charred cars piled on top of each other. A body was crushed inside one.

In Mar Elias, one of Beirut’s main commercial streets, a blast raised dust and debris that hid the view of the entire block. Across the street, Sahar Charara was huddled in her apartment.

Ever since the 2020 port explosion, in which her two children suffered minor injuries, Charara has tried to protect herself from seeing the victims of violence — a sign of how years of accumulated heartbreaks have marked Lebanese. But when the dust cleared, she looked outside and saw the despair of an entire city on the face of an elderly woman frozen in place and screaming for minutes.

“There were so much horror and fear in her screaming,” said Charara.

When Charara left her apartment an hour later, she exchanged a few words with her neighbor whose shop was destroyed. The expression on her face was a “blank look of horror,” Charara said.

She learned later from her building’s doorman that another neighbor had fallen from the balcony and died from the impact.

A strike hit near the home of Nahida Khalil, close to the corniche. Then she saw smoke also coming from the direction of her brother’s building further up the street.

The next 15 minutes felt like an eternity as she tried to call her brother, with no answer. Finally, his wife responded, screaming that their building was hit. They had searched through the black smoke filling their apartment to find their three children. When they finally made it to the street, they saw half of their building had been leveled, and the other half was slowly tumbling down as rescuers searched for the missing.

“I lived through all the wars since 1975. I never felt this fear,” said Khalil, who has lived in the same building for decades. "These strikes are meant to terrorize ... and to spoil the ceasefire and cause division” between Lebanese.

A few hundred meters to the west of Charara’s building later in the day, motorists swerved and crossed paths, as they tried to evacuate Tallet al-Khayyat, one of the highest points in Beirut and home to some of the city’s classiest apartment buildings. One building crumbled to dust in seconds after being struck by an Israeli bomb; a resident described hearing the building’s stones grind before it collapsed.

By nightfall, people were still assessing the losses – and trying to figure out where was safe. Some families spent the night sleeping in different rooms, figuring if overnight strikes hit, some would survive.

Rescue efforts went on through the night.

At Khalil’s family building in the Ain Mreisseh neighborhood, rescue workers' hopes were boosted after finding a 92-year-old man alive. But by daylight Thursday, they were still searching for four or five more bodies, they told the AP. A man whose 23-year-old daughter was among the missing stood on a mound of rubble and helped search.

At hospitals, staff were still trying to identify dozens of bodies, with some burned or damaged. From death notices and its own reporting, the AP collected the names of 61 of the dead. They reflected the breadth of society, including the chef of a popular restaurant, a well-known poet, four soldiers from the Lebanese military, 11 members of two Syrian refugee families, a teacher and her two children, and a doctor along with his wife and three children.

The last strike came shortly after midnight, hitting the southern suburbs of Beirut, which have been regularly hit during the war. Mohammed Mehdi’s barbershop, in operation for 30 years, was destroyed.

During the current war, he and his family fled their home in the neighborhood, Chiyah, and now sleep in a dentist clinic, near Khalil’s family building. But he made it a point to keep his barber shop open, going to it every day to meet friends, have coffee and give the occasional haircut. He shut down Wednesday as bombs starting falling across the city.

“They carried out 100 strikes. Ours was the 101st,” he said Thursday. He is mourning Lebanon’s dead from the day. “I am still in shock, and I don’t know where things are going. I lost my job and this loss may last for a while.”

AP correspondent Kareem Chehayeb in Beirut contributed to this report.

People inspect debris and damaged vehicles at the site of an Israeli airstrike in Dahiyeh, Beirut's southern suburbs, Lebanon, Thursday, April 9, 2026. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

A Lebanese civil defense worker, right, stands with a resident at the site of a building destroyed in an Israeli airstrike a day earlier in central Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, April 9, 2026. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

A woman and an injured man, center, are rescued by firefighters from a destroyed building that was hit in an Israeli airstrike in central Beirut, Lebanon, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)

A man gathers his belongings from his home, which has been destroyed in an Israeli airstrike a day earlier in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, April 9, 2026. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)

Residents gather at the site of an Israeli airstrike in Beirut, Lebanon, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)

Smoke rises following several Israeli airstrikes in Beirut, Lebanon, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

Smoke rises following several Israeli airstrikes in Beirut, Lebanon, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

A Lebanese civil defense worker, right, stands with a resident at the site of a building destroyed in an Israeli airstrike a day earlier in central Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, April 9, 2026. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

CAIRO (AP) — Iranians began to regain internet access on Wednesday after authorities ended a monthslong shutdown. But users said service was slow and spotty in some areas, with apps like YouTube and Instagram heavily restricted, as they were before the cutoff began during nationwide protests in January.

Authorities justified the outage as a military imperative after the United States and Israel attacked Iran on Feb. 28. Their decision to lift some restrictions this week came as negotiators appeared to be closing in on a more permanent truce. But many Iranians feared access could be cut off again at a moment's notice.

Internet tracking company Netblocks said Iran’s connectivity, which measures the ability of devices to connect to the internet, is at around 86% of capacity from before the cutoff. Internet analysis firm Kentik said internet traffic, which measures the amount of data transferred and is a good illustration of usage, was at around 40%.

Amir Rashidi, an Iranian cybersecurity analyst, said there were still widespread disruptions. “It's too early to say the shutdown is over,” he wrote on X.

Iran’s roughly 90 million people have been cut off from the internet for most of 2026, one of the world’s longest and strictest national shutdowns. Young people with online careers saw their incomes evaporate. Job losses and the closure of online businesses added to the war's steep economic costs.

The cutoff made it difficult for Iranian families to communicate through months of unrest and war. At some points, phone lines were also cut off, though they were later restored.

A woman living in Tehran said that for months she was barely able to speak to her sons living abroad. She couldn't believe authorities had restored access, saying she had assumed they would find some justification to prolong the outage.

A taxi driver said service was restored but weak. He expressed hope it would improve so he could use messaging apps with family and friends. Both spoke on condition of anonymity for security reasons.

Prices spiked during the shutdown, with residents in Tehran at times paying around $7.50 per gigabyte. Prices are back down to around $2.25 for 30 gigabytes, roughly where they were before the protests.

Even then, Iran tightly controlled access to popular social media sites, leading many to rely on virtual private networks, or VPNs. The cost of those workarounds soared during the shutdown, making them unaffordable for many as the economy was battered.

Businesses have started reappearing online, announcing their return with posts on sites like Instagram and Telegram.

A gamer and tech influencer in the central city of Isfahan said the shutdown had caused him to lose a lot of his audience on YouTube and Instagram, where he had spent years building up a large following.

“All my views and interactions are way down. I’ve been erased from the algorithm,” he said in a voice note sent by WhatsApp, adding that his internet connection was still slower than before the shutdown.

“The situation is such that many content producers have had their income reduced to zero, have moved on to other jobs, or have been forced to sell their equipment to survive,” he said. He spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal.

Iranian authorities first shut down the internet in January during mass anti-government protests that were eventually stamped out in a violent crackdown. Thousands of people were killed and tens of thousands detained.

That cutoff was just starting to ease when the government imposed a complete internet blackout after the start of the war, when U.S. and Israeli strikes killed Iran's supreme leader and other top officials.

The government faced criticism for the prolonged shutdown, which caused even more harm to an economy devastated by inflation, strikes on key industries and a U.S. blockade on Iranian ports.

The internet cutoff cost an estimated $30-40 million daily, with indirect losses likely twice that much, a member of Iran’s Chamber of Commerce, Afshin Kolahi, told a local newspaper last month. About 10 million people have jobs that depend on internet connectivity, according to Communications Minister Sattar Hashemi.

Iranians still had access to a national net, but that has a far narrower reach, and users complained of poor service and heavy censorship. Senior government officials are given SIM cards granting them access to the global internet. Under pressure, the government expanded access to the SIM cards to some professions during the shutdown.

A woman checks her smartphone while sitting on a bench along a sidewalk in northern Tehran, Iran, Tuesday, May 26, 2026. (AP Photo/Vahid Salemi)