Inside Gaza: Families on the move as the rockets keep falling Mohammed's relatives and neighbours say they didn't hear an Israeli drone or an F16 jet flying over-head before the strike. There were certainly no Apache helicopters in the area and the location is too far from the coast to have been struck by shells from a naval boat. There is only a small ditch in the sand marking the missile's final impact, not the usual deep, narrow hole that an Israeli munition creates. There are suspicions that the boy was, in fact, killed by one of the many home-made Hamas rockets fired towards Israel from this crowded area - which are, by their nature, far from reliable. Sharif Khalah, 26, was standing at the end of the alleyway by the road when the missile struck. "Suddenly there was this whistling noise, a whoosh and then bang - an impact," he recalls. I couldn't see anything for about 10 minutes because there was so much dust and smoke. Then I saw the little boy. He was cut in half. Another of Mr Khalah's neighbours, 22 year-old Mohammed Obeid, was also killed, struck in the head with shrapnel. Less than 24 hours after her youngest son's death, Esmat Sadalah, Mohammed's mother, was too bereft to apportion blame. It was possible he was struck by a rocket fired by Palestinian fighters, she said. It was also possible he was killed in an Israeli strike. What she is struggling to understand is that he is gone. "I had just been looking out of the window at him playing, enjoying himself, laughing," Mrs Sadalah said, speaking in short breaths through streams of tears. But this was his destiny from almighty God. Several streets away, the home of local Hamas leader Suleiman Salah, known as Abu Hassan, lay in ruins on Saturday. The Israeli military has denied any involvement in the strike that killed Mohammed Sadalah, but claimed responsibility for this hit, fired from an F16 jet at 5am on Saturday morning. The house had been reduced to a mound of rubble, strewn with evidence of domestic life, children's clothes, a broken television set, the remains of bright yellow floral curtains. The force of the blast was so intense that it ripped the walls off the surrounding buildings. Remarkably, no one was killed. Abu Hassan and his family were not at home and his stunned neighbours escaped with only minor injuries. Hanan El Haddah, sister of the missing Hamas chief, stood dumfounded in the house of one neighbour, whose living room, now missing several walls, stood open to the street. Hassan where are you! This is the house you built, where are you?" she wailed, surveying the destruction. The owners of this destroyed home were moving quickly to move their all their belongings onto carts and trucks standing outside. The family, along with their fridge, their carpet, their beds and all their furniture, were moving to safety. We are going to my father's house nearby. It's also been hit but it's safer than here. But nowhere is really safe in the Gaza Strip," said Sana Atallah, 39. As she spoke there came the unmistakable squeal of an outgoing rocket launched from somewhere nearby, followed by shouts of "Allah Uakbar." The Atallahs are not the only family on the move. On Saturday morning, in the northern border areas of Beit Hanoun, whole families stood by the side of the road with belongings in blue plastic bags, waiting to take them to the relative safety of central Gaza city. Tractors pulling white sheets behind them carried women and children away from their homes. The Israeli military has sent text messages in Arabic warning Gaza residents that "the second phase is coming." Leaflets have been dropped warning Palestinians to stay away from Hamas affiliated locations - as if there were many others to which they could withdraw. Gaza waited, in tense anticipation of an Israeli ground offensive. But not everyone is able to flee. Ahmad Hakoumbo, 60, has lived in his home in central Gaza City since he was seven years old. In 2007, Hamas established its headquarters directly next door. At 5am on Saturday, a barrage of five bombs reduced the site to rubble and blew the glass from Mr Hakoumbo's windows. "Of course I would like to leave, but where would I go?" he asks. There are no bomb shelters in the Gaza strip, nor sirens to warn of incoming strikes. Mr Hakoumbo is not a Hamas supporter and from the moment the faction arrived in his neighbourhood, he felt threatened. He is not a political man. But he does support the Hamas fighters firing rockets: the fighters have little choice, he says. Israel can do anything it wants. The resistance has to continue. It must defend us. No one else will.