All language subtitles for BBC.The.Road.to.Palmyra.1080p.HDTV.x264.AAC.MVGroup.org.eng

NEWSREADER: Fighters from the
so-called Islamic State

are reported to be closing in on the
ancient city of Palmyra,

one of the Middle East's greatest
archaeological sites.

In May 2015, to the horror of
the watching world,

so-called Islamic State seized the
ancient ruined city of Palmyra

in Syria.

They began destroying it, in an act
of barbaric cultural terrorism.

Allahu Akbar!

With propaganda videos like these,

heritage became a victim in a war of
ideology fought in the media.

When IS was finally driven
out in March 2017,

I knew I had to return to Palmyra.

As an architectural historian,

I've long been mesmerised by the
city's intoxicating, classical

architecture. And I feel a deep
emotional connection to these ruins.

Fortunately, my friend, the veteran
photographer Don McCullin,

also has a love and
fascination for Palmyra.

Don, best known for his gritty
black-and-white war photographs,

has experienced almost every
conflict during the last 60 years.

Don has taken some wonderful
photographs of Palmyra

and wants to go back to take more.

We both felt compelled to find out
first-hand what damage IS have

inflicted and if the
toppled structures

could be put back together.
And why that matters.

But to get to Palmyra,

we have to travel through a country
still in the grip of war.

After two days of travelling,
Don and I reach the Syrian capital.

I'm elated.

I've been here in my mind a lot
recently, planning, plotting.

I don't want to spoil your joy,

but there is a suburb here where
there are rebels still holding out,

people are starving. Because it all
seems to be very civilised

and functioning. But at any moment
death could arrive

in the opposite direction.

The security is tight.

Even to enter our hotel.

A lot of noise out there, it's
bombs, I imagine aeroplanes.

Maybe artillery.

Dropping bombs and shells on eastern
Ghouta, which is a rebel-held area.

I say rebels -
the opposition to Assad.

They are still holding out.

People are dying only about four
or five kilometres from here.

This is still a city at war.

Our first morning in Damascus.

Before we can start filming on
the streets,

we are ordered to meet the general
in charge of all press activities

in the heavily fortified
government headquarters.

And we are told to stop filming.

But, surprisingly, Don is allowed to
take photographs.

In a tense exchange,

the general blames Western countries
who are permitting their citizens

to join IS, and says Western media
should report that the Syrian army

is ridding the world of terrorists.

Fortunately, he approves
our cultural expedition.

The General clearly wants our film
to show that the regime

is the saviour of Syria's heritage.

Back on the streets,

endless images of President Assad
and his late father

looked down at us.

We are still subject to roadblocks
and security checks.

Don and I aware that we are only
here because the regime

has approved our entry.

With permission to film granted,

our first stop is a national museum
closed to the public for seven years

Here is the lion.
The Lion of Al-lat.

The first thing we see is the
recently restored Lion of Al-lat

from Palmyra,
which was smashed by IS.

It looks so beautiful, doesn't it,
with the minarets in the background.

Here are some of the old stones
that Islamic State

didn't bother to smash.

Here's some parts of the old stones
that were smashed, and have been

restored with resin.

Here's another, again, an old stone
with some interesting graffiti.

So it's clear what is old
and what's new.

Authenticity not confusing.

Photography gave me a life,
it gave me an education -

because I travel with many people
like Dan, and they became my tutors.

Now I'm getting rather desperate
to get in there,

to see these treasures.

In May 2015, as IS -
or Daesh in Arabic -

closed in on Palmyra for the
first time,

trucks loaded with artefacts from
its museum were driven to Damascus.

We've come a long way and I'm
desperately keen

to see what you have from Palmyra.
I'm particularly desperately keen

to see the things you salvaged in
terrible circumstances,

at the 11th hour,
as Daesh was arriving.

Can we see those first?

We will show you together
with my colleagues.

Thank you so much.

We are taken into the inner sanctum
of the museum.

Wow.

So this is one of the objects you've
brought from Palmyra Museum?

Yeah. Well, she's a beautiful
and she is more precious

and certainly more rare now,
but for the moment

you keep her and her companions
in secrecy and in security

because times are difficult.

But one day - one day -
she will go back to Palmyra?

Yes, yes. We are optimistic
to do this one day.

It makes sense that the saved
artefacts -

we are told 850 of them -

are kept in a secret location so
they are not exposed to attack.

But what this suggests, of course,

is that the situation in the country
is far from stable.

We're now going to see the pieces
that were recovered after IS

had been driven out of Palmyra
for the first time.

They destroyed first all the heads,
all the faces.

You see? All the heads.

Systematic removal of
the personalities.

Heads. So you now have to find the
rest of that.

Islam protected and venerated
these sites for 1,400 years.

Exactly. They don't care about
Islam, or about everything, just

to destroy the cultures.

This is a sobering sight.

Once so well protected
and well loved,

these images of the dead of Palmyra
are now painfully disfigured.

Just profoundly depressing,
isn't it?

It is. I find it hard to look
at, really.

What is fantastically interesting
about all this art -

and fascinating about Palmyra,
generally - is the way it is

a fusion of the classical world
and Greek and Roman costumes

married into the world of Syria.

Each 1,800-year-old face is a
likeness of a once-living Palmyrian.

And for me, their destruction
is an attack on a real person.

Oh!

Mother and the children.

The bitter irony is that the very
things we love most become targets

for IS.

Our expression of horror
at every cultural outrage

has simply provoked more
outrageous attacks by IS.

In the afternoon,
we go to Al-Hamidiyah Souq

which, despite the circumstances,
is teeming with life.

We're going through.

Don wants to capture
the people of the city.

Oh, my God, here's a picture for me.

What a beautiful man.

Fantastic.

You know, Syria has had a lot of,
you know, negative press.

People don't know exactly how nice
the Syrian people are, really.

You have to come here to find out.

What's for sale here says much about
this nation, and its culture.

And Palmyra's ruins are entwined
with Syria's identity -

they represent the people's
national pride.

Temple of Bel,
Temple of Baalshamin.

They stick on the fridge.

I like that, I like that.

I'd like a couple of those.

What's the best price you can
do on this?

What's your best price?

1,500. 1,500.

I'll do it. Good man.

Thank you very much.

So what do you feel
about the destruction

of the monuments in Palmyra?

Palmyra is even represented
on the Syrian £200 note.

Look, it's amazing.

On the notes, the currency
of the realm,

that's a wonderful detail from one
of these shrines

in the Temple of Bel.

The sensational ceiling.
Lovely. Thank you.

With night closing in,

it's strange to realise that we are
only a few kilometres

from deadly warfare.
I'm getting a bit anxious.

It's getting dark,
stuff gets dangerous.

Because this, of course, is where
the mortar fell.

Well, if one goes off there's every
chance one might come back in reply.

So maybe we should push on.

Day three. Today we travelled to
the city of Homs.

But we've all had a disturbed
night's sleep.

Three o'clock in the morning,
I was awoken by a huge explosion.

I mean, I can handle the situation

because I've been doing
this for 60 years.

I've always liked the challenge but
my body is beginning to say,

this could be the last real
adventure in your life.

But I'm not going to go down
without a fight.

That's why I came here.

I feel like a battery hen.

I want to get out of here
and flap my wings.

I want to get going.

We're due to drive to Palmyra via
the city of Homs

because it's the only route open.
Our local producer, Lana,

tells us an eruption of military
activity means

we have to take a detour.

The road is closed
because it's dangerous

so we need to take the other
to avoid this area,

near the east Ghouta.

Between the checkpoints along the
way it's as if the Assad dynasty

is watching our progress.

I've just taken a photograph of some
of the world's most appalling

people. You've never seen a more
untrustworthy bunch

of people in your life.

Finally, we arrive at
our destination.

A city that has seen some of the
most intense fighting

of the war - Homs.

But initially it seems unscathed.

No serious sign of war damage here.

It looks as if life has always
been normal here.

This is where the popular uprising
against the Assad regime

started in May 2011.

I'm surprised. I'm just waiting
for the change.

I didn't expect that. Look at that.

That side of the road is OK but this
side - bullet marks, pock marks,

shell damage. So we are literally on
the strange boundary of conflict,

as it were.

We arrived at our hotel, which the
UN also uses for its headquarters.

The security here is intense.

We've been searched twice, gone
through two sets of fortifications.

We're now in the compound
outside a hotel.

Nothing but UN vehicles.

I think we're in the most fortified
part of the city.

Don and I head to the old city,

where Assad's opponents were
besieged for three years.

The battle for Homs ended in May
2014 when Assad lifted the siege

of the city's centre, allowing
opposition forces to evacuate.

But some parts held out
until late 2015.

Amongst this devastation,
Don searches for images

of this city's pain.

I'm in the old city, and it's
virtually totally destroyed here.

This place has been completely hit
by air strikes.

That's why all these huge concrete
roofs have caved in.

And once again, the silence
is quite creepy.

18. Yes, yes.

The silence is almost drumming
on my ears.

I'm just going to wait for this
motorbike to come up.

Perfect.

There is a bomb under here
where I'm standing.

See, that's the top of
the mortar bomb.

It hit the ground and it
hasn't exploded.

It's buried itself in.

OK.

It's good. Yeah, good.

No problem. Yeah, good.

Tricky, but good. Yeah, I can do it.

I can do it.

No, no, no.

It's OK. Don't worry, don't worry.

Leave me, it's OK. Leave me.

Just take your time.

Let's not forget, this was
somebody's home once.

And I'm trespassing on
somebody's home

and their past
lives living here.

There are their possessions
scattered all over the place.

Quite frankly, I feel quite
embarrassed about being here.

I can't do it from down
here properly.

I need to climb on top of here.

He's going to lift you up. OK.

So can I give you that.

OK, it's too good up there not
to do it.

I have to get up by the satellite
dish because I can see the mosque

standing in all its glory amongst
all this devastation

as far as the eye can see.

So it would be silly to come all
this way and climb up these

horrible stairs and not get up on
the top of here.

My hands on this wall? OK.

I've got to do this. Have you got
my leg? It's OK,

don't worry about your leg.

I seem to have forgotten that I'm
slightly older

than... My mind thinks first,
and my body complains after.

I'm an old man's body with a
young man's eyes.

I'm embarrassed about the concern
that all the people

I've been working with
have had for me.

I've lost my dignity a bit, really.

It's a terrible thing, old age.

Thank you.

Anyone who thinks I'm
tough, you know,

they don't know how hard it's been
for me to put on this charade

of toughness. But, you know,
making out one's tough

will carry you that extra mile but
deep down I'm just like

the average man in the
street, really.

Particularly the average
83-year-old man in the street.

Look at this. This is a great shot.

A fantastic sky coming up here.

Look at that sky. It's wonderful.

And the mosque is amazing.

You got me?

Thank you.

You know, if I would have been
here ten years ago

this would have been
a thriving community.

And it's completely deserted.

You don't even see a dog or a cat
running around here.

There is absolutely nothing apart
from the occasional scooter

coming back from the market
on the other side of town.

OK. Two seconds.

I'm going to go round,
is that all right?

Got me? OK.

This could stand as a ghost city for
many years to come.

Who's going to come back here?

Who's going to finance the
rebuilding of the old city of Homs?

It will never again be the old
city of Homs.

There's a poster of President Assad
that's there to reinforce

his popularity amongst the people
of this country.

But it's almost ridiculous to think
that this poster is in front

of the damage that he, personally,
inflicted upon his own people.

Day Four. We're on our way to
Crusaders' Castle,

just outside Homs.

Krak des Chevaliers, built by the
Knights Hospitaller

in the late 12th century, is one of
the finest examples

of castle design in the world.

During the battle for Homs,
the castle was occupied

by jihadist forces.

I've read that the regime
had bombarded the castle

to force out the occupiers

who were deliberately using this
precious building

as a shield.

There's the damage.
There's the damage.

Oh, it's worse than I thought.

But of course, like all ancient
buildings, it's vulnerable.

And never designed to resist aerial
bombs or shelling or mortars.

Sorry this is...

Sorry, it's just a moment.

This is the hall of the
Knights Hospitaller.

It is the most sensational
building of about 1180.

This is the upper part of a castle,
the inner sanctum.

This is the holy of holies.

This is the hall where the high
grandees of the Knights Hospitaller,

comparable to the Knights Templars,

would have gathered to run this
great domain -

part of the Christian adventure, the
Christian kingdom in the Holy Land.

And now... Last time I was here it
was almost perfect,

and now look at it. Look at it.

The columns in two of the windows of
the hall's Cloister have been blown

out and the wall badly scarred
with shrapnel.

The engineer overseeing repairs
gives the government's version

of how the castle was damaged.

Who inflicted this damage on
the Great Hall?

The columns blasted out and the
shrapnel and so on.

How did that come about?

He tells me the damage inside was
caused by the Jihadists

detonating bombs when they
left the castle.

That is what the regime is now
saying - Assad's regime.

The damage is here but is not
caused by them,

but caused by the rebels
who were occupying.

Stories here are
difficult to unravel

and there are riddles
within riddles.

Everybody I know who talks about
this place are under the impression

that it was the Assad forces
that did this damage.

Getting the truth is a very
difficult task.

TE Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia,
when he was here,

early 20th century, said this was
the best preserved

and the most wholly admirable castle
in the world.

He's absolutely right.

It's the most perfect machine of
medieval warfare.

And now look at it.
The art of history and beauty

being victims of political struggle,
political power games.

As we leave, an abandoned
apartment block gives Don

the perfect vantage
point of the castle.

This has never been an easy place to
photograph, but it will be today.

I love the whole journey...

..finding the landscape,
the subject, loading my camera,

taking the picture,
going into my darkroom.

I'm terrified the night before
I go in my darkroom

because I'm afraid
of disappointment.

But sometimes things don't always
turn out the way you expect them to.

But the whole thing is
so exciting, really.

I've been doing this for 60-odd
years, you know.

And I never get bored with it.

Back in Homs, in the district
of Baba Amr,

there is a school now occupied by
displaced people of Palmyra -

or Tadmur, as locals call it.

Your friends, Don.
I'm surrounded by lovely children.

Yeah, lovely children.

We're here to meet a woman who fled
Palmyra with her five children

after her husband, a government
official, was murdered by IS.

When, and why, did you leave Tadmur
to come to Homs?

What happened to your husband?

These are your children?

What was life like for you in
Tadmur, Palmyra,

before the arrival of Daesh?

Our time in Homs has made us realise
this journey

is more than a story about the
ancient city of Palmyra.

The damage inflicted on the modern
cities of Syria

is shattering to behold.

This is the last leg of
our expedition.

Until March 2017, less than a year
ago, this desert was occupied by IS.

And we are now in the hands of the
Syrian military.

We picked up a car just
outside Homs.

The car has two soldiers,
two officers.

One with three stars on his
shoulder, presumably high ranking.

They are our escort.

In a few hours, it will be dark.

And we need to reach Palmyra
before nightfall.

You do not want to be on this road
in another couple of hours

because nobody can guarantee
that the kind of bandits

are not out there somewhere.

We're nearly there.

We're now being looked over by the
Russian Army.

Well, our guns are bigger
than theirs.

This is where Islamic State made one
of their stands

before being ejected.

So there's munition boxes and
a heavy - 20-calibre machinegun.

And a wild dog.

Our vehicles are stopped on the hill
above Palmyra.

There is a sense of unease.

Our government minder makes sure
they know

we have official approval to film.

Don and I get a chance to look at
the ancient ruins

before night falls.

We're seeing the Temple of Bel -
what remains of it.

We can see, just in the setting sun,
just about make out the columns.

I can barely speak.

Epic journey, epic journey.

The modern town of Tadmur
is deserted.

We'll be sleeping rough.

I can't bear to go somewhere with
without, you know, putting my head -

when I sleep at night
I need a soft pillow.

It may seem absurd, but I can't...

I can take any form of
criticism you throw at me.

I'm going to use this pillow.

We're staying in a building
previously occupied by IS.

Now it's a makeshift barracks
for the Syrian army.

This is where the soldiers
normally stay.

We're all in here together?
That's very reassuring.

We have television.

That's great, burn the house down!

That often happens when I'm...

Is there no peace for the wicked?

There's nowhere else in the world
I'd rather be right now than here.

Because one's seeing,
exploring and, I hope,

in some way, we might help by
our efforts.

I do not know. I'd rather be here
than thinking about being here.

I could easily be in Somerset in a
lovely bed with clean sheets

and things like that, but I'd be
lacking something

because my mind demands
that I come here.

I feel incredibly privileged
to be here.

Do you know something? I'm going to
go to sleep because I'm tired.

Me too. Here's my sleeping bag,
here's my sleeping place,

and I'm going to sleep, too. I'm
going to sleep in my clothes again.

I still don't quite trust
everybody around here.

With my beanie hat on.

I'd normally lock the door if I
thought people like you

were going to try and get in here.

Good night.

Night.

I just came up on this roof in this
abandoned house where we've taken

refuge last night.

And as I came up the stairs,

I looked in the room and I saw a
bunch of woman's shoes.

And I really felt sad, really,

because the town has been abandoned
by its inhabitants

and many had no time to gather
their possessions,

so looking at other people's lives
via what they left behind

and uncomfortable being here.

Islamic State first occupied this
town in May 2015.

After a vicious battle, it was taken
back ten months later.

Tragically, Palmyra fell again to
IS in December 2016,

before finally being retaken in
March 2017 by the Syrian government

with its Russian allies.

We're on our way to the
2000-year-old Temple of Bel -

the most famous building of
ancient Palmyra -

only minutes beyond the southern
edge of the modern town.

I want to examine the remains of the
Temple, and Don wants to document

the extent of the destruction.

It's important to me because
I was probably

one of the last photographers to
photograph it in its majestic way.

All in one piece together,
it was truly magnificent.

Can you translate this,
what it says?

Islamic State.
So that's written by Daesh?

This is telling the local people
not to go in.

Yes, yes.

This is the moment
I've been dreading.

I'm finally going to see for myself
what has happened

to the Temple of Bel.

It's a scene of horror.

When IS shattered the Temple of
Bel with explosives,

they knew they would send
a terrifying message

to the whole world.

Donald, what devastation.

I know.

It's chaos, isn't it?

This is raw and shocking
cultural terrorism.

So important, so beautiful.

It is so utterly distressing.

A temple built for the worship of
the god Bel,

destroyed by IS in a hideous
act of propaganda.

They claimed it promoted idolatry.

Also they wanted to
destroy beauty, memory,

architecture and the identity of
the Syrian people.

This is fascinating.

Here is an image of a god,
I suppose, not destroyed.

Well, not entirely.

It is the Eagle of Jupiter.

The face of the eagle has been
hacked off.

This was the largest temple complex
in the world

when it was built in the
first century AD.

It was epic, and massive,
and hugely important.

So this is what is left.

The explosion reduced this
sensational building

to this amount of rubble.

My goodness.

Everywhere I look,
it's more heartbreak

because the stones are so damaged.

This is what I wanted to see.

Look at the nature of
the destruction.

The ancient stone, some of them
reduced to this.

People say there's maybe 30% or 40%
of the old stone not destroyed.

It can be reused. Hard to feel
that, standing here.

The nature of the damage
to the stones,

as you can see, is horrendous.

Almost impossible to endure.

It does look beautiful, even though
it's been destroyed,

but at the same time,

I'm talking from the point of view
of a photographer,

so we're bound to say things that
are not totally correct.

I rather like the archway,
it's defiant.

It means you haven't crossed us,
you haven't beaten us.

We are still here.

Oh, my God. This is the
capital itself.

This vast stone...

..stood at the top of one of
the sides.

This is, I say, a scene that
no-one should see.

A scene that I thought I would
never experience.

This is a scene I suppose
people endured

during the Second World War,

but a building of such international
importance of incredible beauty,

it's a...

Just look at the nature of
the destruction.

Russian soldiers ahead of us on
the building,

but we won't take any
notice of them.

Hello.

Here, OK? OK.

Outside, bad?

He said there are mines
and we must be careful

not to stray too much around.

You know, it's not OK when
there's a huge explosion,

and my legs have gone.

Actually, I fell over here several
years ago and broke one of my ribs.

I tripped over and broke my rib
and collapsed my lung,

so I don't want to do it again

because there's no
hospital here anymore.

The question is, can it
be brought back to life -

this dead body - in a way that
doesn't make it

into a ghastly Frankenstein?
Can it live again in some way?

I'm thinking that we have seen
the worst, I think...

I hope some of the other temples
we will...

..kind of rise to a slightly higher
level and begin to think

of solutions that are possible here.
It seems impossible.

What can one do?

These fragments of great classical
architecture, how do you remake it?

You can carve it.
What meaning will that have?

Do you know what?
I've never thought this before.

I thought I'd never say it.

In this case, for this temple,
you maybe just leave it.

Nothing can speak more
about human baseness.

This is a lesson that must never
be forgotten.

You know what?
That's what I think now.

Leave it. Leave it.
Just don't touch a thing.

I want to get an overall picture of
this, it would be sensational.

One picture. Here, just here.
Take it.

Suddenly, we're joined by several
Russian military helicopters.

They're the people who have
liberated this place

for the second time.

I suppose... There it is again.

I wish it would go away now.

I particularly don't want them in
my picture now.

These helicopters are a reminder
that the war continues

not far from Palmyra,
and people are dying.

Why do stones matter, when lives
have been given?

People, buildings,
blood or stone, my view,

and the view expressed by most of
the Syrians I've met on the road to

Palmyra - all different sorts,
academics and soldiers -

is that they are entwined.

Human life is precious
and wonderful,

human life is given meaning, focus,
and direction by the past,

by such buildings.

Such buildings as this give them
national identity, national pride.

Life itself has no meaning without
reference of such buildings.

This is a place of great pride.

And it is important to the world.

This is culture,
this is civilization,

this is humanity. This is what we
stand for, and stand by.

At the head of the Grand Colonnade
was a monumental arch -

one of the most recognisable
landmarks of Palmyra -

and is in pieces on the ground.

In terms of these great arches
from the ancient world,

this is one of the best.

It commemorates and marks this
triumphal route

for merchant caravans
going through the city.

Think of utter beauty and
fantastically detailed

and delicate - you get that
from the surviving fragments,

but there's more and larger
proportions of relatively big

and undamaged blocks than at the
Temple of Bel.

This all looks more promising.

It ceases to be like waste stones
from a quarry somewhere,

but this has become architecture.

Here, you see lots of elements.

This is the heart and soul
of Palmyra.

This is emblematic of all those
great aspects of the city.

To see it laid low like this is
beyond any heartbreak.

Look, these are tumbled blocks.

It is possible to make a
reconstruction that retains

some high level of authenticity.

It won't just be a pastiche,
or be a lot of old material.

This is good.

This is good. Gut reaction is that
this is doable.

This is doable.

1,750 years ago, Palmyra was
sacked by Roman legionaries

following a failed rebellion
against the Empire,

with much of the population put
to the sword.

That such barbarity should,
after all these centuries,

be repeated is deeply
and bleakly depressing.

Could we walk up a bit?
Would you mind?

No, Don, how are you? Oh, it just
kind of gets carried away here,

doesn't it?

We walk along Colonnade Street to
the Roman theatre.

This is the theatre. Place, again,
the scene of execution.

I know, I know, I know.

25 men killed here.

Those Tadmur residents who had not
fled IS were forced to watch the

horrific murders of
government soldiers.

Maybe we'll sit on an old seat,

because these ones have been
restored in recent times, but

you know, Don, everything about
the city now is this veil of such...

Of despair, because this of course
is where the people of Palmyra sat.

I suppose people have played scenes
on theatre stages of execution,

but this... Scenes, not real thing.

Played it out for real here.

You know, the theatre of execution,

this incredible theme you're seeing
in their behaviour, that repeats.

They find sacred places,
places of life,

places that are convivial, public
squares and they use those

because they are those very things,
as a place of torture and death.

That event, that recorded event in
its history

is terrible and impossible
to erase, isn't it?

Very little to extract from it that
isn't dark and horrible.

Maybe this is all beyond words.

Maybe we should simply sit in
silence for a bit

and just hear and think.
I would welcome that.

Outside the theatre,

the soldiers escort us to ensure
that we avoid any possible mines.

Our government minder shows us where
IS also tried

to blow up the theatre
and adjoining colonnade.

Daesh, and bomb all
of the theatre and that.

The bombs were laid here intending
to blow up the colonnade,

but the Army stopped it.

Yeah.

OK, these are very
frightening stories.

Very frightening stories.

Don and I return to town to visit
the museum, also ransacked by IS.

The model of the city... Yes.

So infantile, isn't it?

Yeah. How terrible.

The model of the Temple of Bel.

They smashed the real temple.

They even smashed the model of
the temple.

Maniacs!

Childlike frenzy of hatred.

This is a tool by which destruction
is brought.

A hammer. A vast,
bloody great hammer.

The murder weapon.

All of the faces, smashed.

Every face. Even the little baby's
face, smashed.

I met the director here
several years ago,

and there was some wonderful things
here that were rescued

from the tombs,
discovered in the tombs.

And I came specifically to ask them
if I could photograph in the museum

in the first place, because most
curators are very tricky about that,

and if he had any light source
I could borrow,

because it was quite dark then.

He not only gave me tea,
a wonderful reception,

he provided the lights
and everything,

and I had the most enjoyable
experience here.

That same museum director,
Khaled al-Assad,

was murdered by IS.

And he is regarded as a martyr who
died in an attempt to protect

the ancient glories of Palmyra.

His two sons have come to Palmyra
to meet us.

Your father was very charming,
very kind to me.

Your father was Palmyra.

Your father was taken from
the mosque?

My father was murdered here.

On this corner?

They show us the exact place
where IS executed their father.

It's too painful to listen to.
Too much pain.

These people had the audacity,
having dragged him

out of this mosque,
cut his head off,

and said he wasn't to be buried
almost immediately

as people are in Islam,
within 24 hours.

They wanted to disgrace him further
by not burying him

and hanging him upside down - I
mean, it's just too awful for words.

I don't know how those two brothers
can come here and talk about it.

I couldn't do that.

Where would one get the courage
to speak back like that

with such courage and dignity?

What a man he must've been.

Few people have returned to Tadmur.

The vast majority of the people
in this ghost town are soldiers.

They're both our host
and protectors.

Is this your wife?
Yes. Beautiful.

I'm picking up the smell of
a dinner.

I'm now becoming slightly greasy.

Hungry. Hungry? Yeah, of course.

All of a sudden,
and man broke out in song.

It was like a lament.

There was a sadness, there was a
kind of haunting sound to the music.

The soldier's song is particularly
poignant for our government minder,

whose son - a soldier -
died in the war.

Although the song
may be a performance,

I feel the suffering isn't.

Our last day in Palmyra, and I need
to explore the rest of the site.

The 1,900-year-old
Temple of Baalshamin -

the god of storms and
life-giving rain -

was the most intact
of Palmyra's temples.

IS blew it up a week before
destroying the Temple of Bel.

The stones are like building
blocks, aren't they?

Like some petulant child has knocked
the building over

because you can see straightaway,
these stones

are in reasonably good condition.

So this is a different proposition.

It's not as bad as I feared.

However, it's still heartbreaking.

Look here. Going to hold a
fragment like that.

That part of the column,
there is the fluting of the column.

It would have been like that.

Other bits of column over there.

I mean, there has been
serious damage,

of course, very serious damage.

Disappointingly, no work has started
to conserve the stones

or the toppled monuments.

Even Unesco, which considers Palmyra
a World Heritage Site,

has not returned since April 2016

because it believes
it's too dangerous here.

To help me make sense of
all of this,

Syria's Director of Historical
Buildings, Dr Ahmad Deb,

has come to Palmyra.

Yesterday, when I sat
amongst the ruins,

I became emotionally overwhelmed
with depression.

I've always argued that this
building must be recreated.

Why should evil have the last word?

Now, I feel maybe that we
leave it as it is.

As a monument to the
brutality of Daesh,

a monument to man's
inhumanity, to history.

What do you think
about that approach?

Palmyra buried its dead in
subterranean tombs called hypogeums,

and in architecturally
impressive towers.

IS blew up many of these towers.

But there's been
no reliable news about the best

of the underground tombs, the
Hypogeum of the Three Brothers.

I want to find out
what has happened to it.

We're going to the Hypogeum of
the Three Brothers,

which I saw ten years ago,

but I'm very interested to know what
condition it's in.

I'd love to be able get inside this
wonderful underground area.

Dr Deb is on hand to unlock
the tomb for me,

which has been sealed since IS left.

And here we see the debris of
their occupation.

Books strewn... I'll be careful.

We're not going to pick things up.

That's not what we do. We just look.

Who knows how dangerous things
might be?

They only left here less than
a year ago.

We are part of this history.

Last time I was here,
these beautiful frescoes

adorned the walls.

For me, it's as important as
Tutankhamun's tomb

in Egypt's Valley of the Kings.

And they put in this block work?

They did all of this.

These were recesses where the bodies
were and there were paintings

here of the faces of the dead.

They survived.
But under, now, whitewash.

But look.

Basically, Isis has whitewashed
the tomb over the frescoes.

They have survived under this paint,

but this was richly coloured,
richly decorated.

As I take it,

I'm the first Western journalist to
enter this tomb

since Islamic State was here.

This has not been explored by
anybody so far.

But I'm not prepared for what's
in the next chamber.

Oh, this is bad!

This is the world-famous fresco,

classical scene with the souls
ascending to heaven.

Every book of ancient art has
that image in it.

It's gone.

That's been scraped off.

This is something I dreaded in
this chamber.

All the architecture decoration,

all the portraits of the dead and
the image - I think of Ganymede -

they've all been painted out.

This is a terrible scene.
It's a terrible loss.

It takes a bit of time
to deal with this.

One of the great wonders of the
ancient world I have discovered,

the first person to discover
this, I think,

because the men from the museum had
not been in there before.

Yes, some can be recovered.

Something can be put right.

But it'll never be the same.
Never be the same.

Don wants to take a final shot
before he loses the light.

OK.

I always think I'm never finished

and that's the way I've been
thinking for the last 60-odd years.

I never think I've come to the end
of the road,

but I think I've come to the end of
my time here at Palmyra.

Look at that. That's amazing.

I will never come back.

Look at that sky.
It is eerie, isn't it?

It's the right kind of recipe

to go with the rest of
the tragedy, really.

My pictures, I hope, will say this
extraordinary place,

these extraordinary columns and
buildings, were made 2,000 years ago

and they are still
defiantly standing,

despite what, recently,
has happened to them.

And also, it will be like
history in clarity.

It will be better for people to come
to Palmyra than look at my pictures.

Because once you come to Palmyra,

you're never going to forget it
and you're going to go away

and it's going to be forever locked
into your mind and imagination.

Our journey has made it clear that
the fate of Palmyra

is forever linked
to the future of Syria.

And that history, as well as people,

have become the innocent victims
of a brutal clash

of politics and ideology.

Coming here has shown that,
a year after IS was ejected,

not enough has been done to conserve
or repair the city's tumbled stones.

My fear is that if
fighting continues,

no-one will be able to come to
Palmyra to start work.

This is a crime scene.

It needs further examination and
protection before the damage

to these shattered
structures get worse.

It is my fervent hope that the great
monuments of Palmyra can be brought

back to life, to once again inspire
and delight

and to help with
the healing of the nation.

Until peace is brokered,
Palmyra remains toppled,

the broken heart of Syria.