How women are targeted by gangs in Egypt's Tahrir Square It soon became apparent that there was nothing we could do - however hard we fought, we could not get near them, and in the meantime scores more men had joined in. It is impossible to say, even in retrospect, but I would estimate at least half, possibly three quarters of those involved were, like me, trying to help. But undeniably, we were making things worse as the melee just grew. We extricated ourselves, and watched painfully as the mob, as if a sprawling beast, moved along the pavement and into the well of the closed metro station nearby. There was no escape there - the girls' friends frantically tried to open the slatted gates into the station, but to no avail. We made a second attempt to help, but were beaten back. We spoke to onlookers, who shrugged their shoulders - there were no police to call, they said. An ambulance arrived, but was also beaten back. One older man then approached and in nervous English asked us to leave. "You cannot help," he said, "And are doing more harm than good. You are attracting more crowds. I could not believe what he was saying, but it was undeniably true. In the dusk, two tall blond foreign men were their own magnet. Hanging our heads, we complied. We walked round the block, and came back to find the whole scene empty, as if it had been a dream. I asked two men what had happened. They looked at me blankly. I read in the local papers the next day a report of two such attacks, which had eventually been broken up, and the girls taken to hospital. It did not make me feel any better. I still look back, and wonder what I could have done differently. I still do not know the answer, but I also know that in all my adult life, I have never felt so ashamed, or so useless.