Michael Jansen ventured as close to the besieged Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem as circumstances allowed.
A barrage of heavy machine gunfire booms through the empty street in front of the Beit Jala hospital as the taxi drops me off. An armoured Israeli scout car stands at the blitzed traffic lights at the entrance to Bethlehem 50 metres up the road.
A yellow armoured jeep belonging to Reuters waits till the Israelis move off before slipping away into the forbidden town, designated a "closed military area". I tag along with a group of journalists from Russia, Denmark and Canada, guided by Mr Bassem Eid of the Palestinian Human Rights Monitoring Group for the walk along the road towards the besieged Church of the Nativity. In such circumstances we rely on the old formula: safety in numbers. At least, that is the theory.
The hidden drama in the church, where some 200 Palestinians have taken refuge, dominates the life of the little town where only cats and correspondents dare to break the curfew. We quickly make for Pope Paul VI Street which leads directly to the church. Descending the narrow cobbled street we squeeze between cars gutted by heavy gunfire during exchanges between Palestinian fighters and Israeli troops. On either side stand houses with windows shot out.
A large Palestinian woman in headscarf and caftan invites us up to inspect the damage to her home. Mrs Ibtisam Masalneh, her husband, Yasser, and their 10 children inhabit a set of rooms in a two-storey stone house shared by several other working-class Palestinian families. The water and power have been cut to some flats and not to others, so they make do by sharing.
The entire Masalneh family sleeps in a room where the glassless window is blocked by matresses. "We have no food," Ibtisam says. "We had a carton of eggs but they're all gone."
Two men from the house were taken away on Sunday night; their wives say they are being held at Manger Square.
Further down the street, an elderly woman takes advantage of our presence to inspect the handicraft centre run by the Arab Women's Union. The door is open and chests of delicate Palestinian embroidery have been ransacked. We pause on the steps above the Omari Mosque which stands just opposite the Church of the Nativity on Manger Square.
The solid stone mass of the church with its tiny black door lie just in front of us, 150 metres away. Taking shelter next to the wall, we sidle down the steps until half-a- dozen heavily armed Israeli soldiers emerge from a doorway.
"You don't belong here. Go back." The soldiers form a line across the street, forcing us to retreat. We are so near but so far from the stand-off in the church.
Last night Israeli troops made an attempt to enter the church through an adjacent building which caught fire. A policeman fighting the blaze was shot dead before the fire was put out.
For the first time since the fourth century, prayers were not performed in the Church of the Nativity on Sunday.