Syria report: Trapped children live in fear at the gates of peril

At least 4,000 fugitives from President Bashar al-Assad's relentless assault on rebel-held areas of northern Syria are trapped inside a spartan camp, waiting for permission to reach the safety of Turkey.

The people of Bab al-Salam refugee camp cannot go home because their villages are pounded by Assad's strike aircraft and artillery day after day. But they cannot go forwards over the frontier because Turkey has quietly restricted the inflow of refugees.

Once, Turkey proclaimed an "open door" to anyone fleeing Syria's bloodshed; today the country is following a new policy, admitting only as many refugees as the 13 established camps have space to house. Until there is room available, people must wait - and many at Bab al-Salam have been here for at least a month.

Caught on the Syrian side of the border between a pitiless regime and a friendly neighbour struggling to control an endless stream of arrivals, they must endure austere conditions and the constant danger of attack by Assad's forces. Most of all, they worry about the approach of winter and the toll that would take on their children. The camp's inhabitants sleep on cold slabs of concrete, with only thin mats for comfort and tents for shelter. Infants and children comprise the great majority.

Mohammed Hafez and his five children are among those trapped in Bab al-Salam, which translates with bitter irony as "gate of peace". "We have been here for one month and one week and only Allah knows how much longer we will have to wait," he said.

This area, controlled by the rebel Free Syrian Army (FSA), routinely comes under air and artillery bombardment. Last week, a shell exploded only a few hundred yards from the camp; the nearby village of Azaz, which the insurgents captured in July, suffers almost daily barrages.

Having fled the regime's assault on Aleppo, Hafez and his family know they have still not reached safety. "If they drop one bomb here, on this camp, it would kill 100 people," he said. Refugees nervously scan the sky for the possible approach of strike aircraft, acutely aware that they remain within reach of Assad's vengeance.

When a Turkish military helicopter landed in the distance, on the other side of the border, word suddenly spread that one of the dictator's machines of war had been sighted. An FSA official had to reassure a frightened knot of people that the helicopter was Turkish. For now, conditions are austere but bearable.

Hafez and his three sons and two daughters, aged between seven and 12, sleep huddled under blankets in their white tent. They are given bread, rice and beans every day and basic medical care. Any serious cases go immediately over the border into Turkish hospitals. But international aid agencies are not helping the camp because of the dangers of operating inside Syria.

Meanwhile, the physical privations are already harsh. "When it rains, the water gathers here, on the concrete, and flows into the tent," said Mr Hafez. "And the winter is coming." An autumnal chill descends on northern Syria every night. In a month or so, winter will start in earnest, bringing frost and later snow. If the camp's people have not been allowed into Turkey by then, conditions will inevitably worsen.

But Turkey has already accepted 93,000 registered refugees and the expansion of its camps has failed to keep pace with the flow of arrivals. As Mr Assad's air force inflicts destruction across northern Syria, more and more people are heading for Turkey.

The United Nations forecasts that the total number of refugees in neighbouring countries will double to 710,000 by the end of the year. That increases the risk that people will still be trapped in Bab al-Salam, waiting for places in a Turkish camp, when winter comes.

If so, children will be particularly vulnerable. "God knows what will happen to us in the winter," said Ayouch Najar, 52, who has been here for 15 days with two of her 10 children. "Perhaps the children will die. It's already windy here and cold at night."

Najar left the rebel-held town of Marea after it became a regular target for indiscriminate air raids. Last week, a bomb exploded in its crowded market, killing scores of people.

In Azaz, a few minutes drive from Bab al-Salam, a recent air strike turned a street of flat-roofed homes into a wasteland of white rubble and twisted masonry. Less than eight miles to the south, the regime still holds a military airport, originally built by the British during their brief presence in Syria in 1941.

MI-24 attack helicopters take off from this base and menace the surrounding area. On Tuesday, one circled over Azaz, perhaps reconnoitring another attack, and a few mortar rounds landed in the village at 9am, without causing casualties.

Meanwhile, the burnt-out wrecks of three Russian-made T-72 tanks and a BMP troop carrier lie beneath a ruined mosque in the centre of Azaz. This was where Mr Assad's forces made their last stand before rebels overwhelmed them in July.

The refugees are bitterly aware of the risk of being caught in more fighting. "We need this to be made a safe zone," said Mr Hafez. "We need this area to be safe, not for the FSA or anyone else, just for the refugees."