Samir El Chekieh, driving an ambulance with sirens screaming, drives to the latest Israeli airstrike in El Karak, Bekaa Valley in eastern Lebanon.
The 32-year old firefighter/paramedic of the Lebanese Civil Defense Force got only a few hours of sleep last night. He hasn’t eaten breakfast yet it is mid-afternoon.
Since the escalation in the war between Israel, and the Shia Muslim Hezbollah the men and woman of the CDF have seen little rest and are bracing themselves for a mass fatality incident every day.
This article contains graphic images.
Samir says that this war is very different from the last one with Israel in 2006. “We didn’t get those kinds of air strikes. Recently, a firestation was hit and a southern church, and our humanitarian colleagues were killed.
CDF workers report that civilians, such as women and children, are more often among the dead or injured when they respond to a call-out.
The war between Israel Hezbollah is spreading across Lebanon.
The intensity of the bombing campaign has spread beyond the southern border villages, the capital Beirut and towns in the fertile Bekaa, including the historic city Baalbek. These towns are mainly Shia areas where Hezbollah’s founding was done. Attacks on the port cities of Sidon, Tyre and Tyre are also increasing.
Israel claims it is only targeting Hezbollah fighters and weapons, as well as their infrastructure. Israel estimates that since its campaign against Hezbollah escalated, it has destroyed around two-thirds Hezbollah’s rocket and missile stocks.
Hezbollah continues to fire rockets at Israel every day.
The BBC spent two full weeks in the Bekaa valley, which extends eastwards up to the border of Syria. Hezbollah had to give permission for the BBC to visit the site of Israeli attacks.
The number and frequency of attacks in the area increased dramatically during that time.
According to official figures, more than 100 Israeli airstrikes were conducted on 28 October. In the Bekaa alone, 160 people have been killed in the last week. Lebanese figures do not differentiate between fighters and civilians.
Samir and his men find chaos and destruction in the Shia village El Karak – the air is thick and filled with dust and smoke.
They had heard an explosion at their station, in the nearby city Zahle. From their balcony they could see a plume in the distance. They jumped in their fire trucks and ambulances, and drove straight there.
A woman in chador sat on the pavement, begging to enter the charred ruins of a building. Men convinced her to stay. It’s too dangerous. A second Israeli air strike is possible.
The first body that they find is a man who was blown to the ground by the blast.
Samir digs deep into the rubble to find survivors. He is not wearing protective gloves because the fire is still blazing. So, when he finds an injured child, he feels shattered bone under his fingertips. As he carefully recovers the child, it becomes apparent that it is only half of a body.
“The first victim that I found was a young child. He tells me later, “I don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl.” “Sorry, I’m going to have to explain this.” It’s only from the stomach up. From the stomach down, there is nothing.
In the past, CDF crews have received phone messages telling them to leave a site where they were present. They assume that they are from Israelis. Samir and the others spent an hour digging deeper into the ruins.
They eventually find a 10-year old girl alive. She tells rescuers her eight-month old brother, Mohammed, is next to her.
“After that we began hearing the screams of a young child,” Samir says.
The rescue team can see the trapped boy through a small crevice. He is trying to move his legs and his babygrow, as well as a single blue socks. Samir gently cradles the boy in his arms and removes the debris that was around him. Mohammed’s family reports that he is being treated for his head injury in Iraq.
The CDF is a force that works across Lebanon’s religious divide. Samir, a Christian who is the head of operations for the station in Zahle, a predominantly Christian city, said that the CDF does not discriminate.
“We do not ask the victim’s sex. We don’t inquire if the victim is black or white. We don’t even ask if he is Christian or Muslim. Samir says, “We are humanitarians.”
According to the UN, at least 10 children were injured and one child killed every day during October in Israeli attacks. Samir’s men are feeling the effects of these losses, as well as those of their colleagues who were killed in strikes.
A second Israeli attack, almost 24 hours after the El Karak site was left, brought down the remainder of the apartment building.
Hezbollah continues to fire rockets at Israel in the early evenings. A salvo of six projectiles or more caused a brushfire near Zahle.
The Hezbollah Flag is planted in the ruins of a building that was destroyed by Israeli bombs. Toys for children have been placed at the base of the flag. Nearby, a large red Shia banner flaps in wind – it’s almost the only sound you can hear in this largely abandoned city.
Jawad Hamzeh leads me through the rubbles of his home with a bandaged scalp.
In the attack, his three daughters, including Nada, a 24-year-old pregnant woman died. He holds up the law books of another daughter, who was studying to become a lawyer.
He says that there were no militants in the area. “Where are the rockets, can you see them?” He asks.
Hezbollah, a Hezbollah-affiliated group with Iranian support, began attacking Israel in solidarity with Hamas on 8 October 2023. Hamas had just carried out an attack on Israel that day. After months of cross-border exchanges, Israel killed Hassan Nassrallah the leader of Hezbollah in late September.
Hezbollah’s goal is to destroy Israel, but the group is more than just a militant one. Hezbollah is the most powerful political and social force in Lebanon. It serves as a shield for the Shia communities of Lebanon against other sects.
The war has forced tens of thousands of Israelis to leave their homes. Israel hopes that by attacking Hezbollah from multiple angles, it will degrade the group so its people can return home.
Despite US-led talks on a ceasefire, neither side seems willing to back down.
The Israeli military issued an order to evacuate the Bekaa town of Baalbek on 30 October. The UN described this as “the largest forced movement Lebanon has seen in a single-day” since the beginning of the conflict. Around 150,000 people had only a few hours to flee a new Israeli assault.
Not far from the Roman ruins, with their towering temple to Bacchus, was Hussein Nassereldine’s 42-year-old home, which had been destroyed by an Israeli strike just the night before.
He says that “no terrorist or bad person” lived here. “All those who lived here were decent individuals,” he says. “We were born and raised here, and will not leave,” he says.
As I leave, pickaxes and rakes are slowly making their way through the rubble. Hussein is preparing to erect his tent on what’s left of his house.
The injured are being treated at the Dar Al Amal Hospital outside the city. According to the local governor, two-thirds of the 63 victims were women and children. Israel claims it has struck 110 Hezbollah targets.
Selin, a three-year-old girl, reaches out her tiny hand in a room filled with only screams. But no one is there. She has burns on her face, a broken leg, and wounds in her groin and her side. In the Israeli airstrike, her mother, father, two siblings and brother were killed. She is now broken and alone.
Kayan Smeha, a two-year-old boy with a fractured head, is lying in the corridor of the intensive-care unit. His mother Najat, 24, kisses his cheek gently and cradles her son to calm him down.
She tells me, “He’s still panicking.” “He is probably reliving the scene just as I am.” I can handle it but he’s small, he cannot.”
She is defiant, even as tears roll down her cheek.
“I’m sobbing because I’m afraid for my child. They are wrong if they believe they can break us. Najat says, “If I had to I would sacrifice my son, my husband, my parents, my sister, and my father.”
“Death is harder than humiliation, but not as hard as death of loved ones.” “We will hold fast to our faith and our traditions until death.”
The sun rises after a cold, cloudy night at the small CDF station located in the village of Ferzoul. The temperature is dropping and the majority of Lebanon’s displaced persons shelters are full.
Samir arrives, and I ask him what he thinks about the events he has witnessed.
“Some of those pictures are stuck in my head,” he said, adding that the images will never leave.
He leans heavily on faith.
“When you keep one [person] living, that will give strength to continue,” he says.
“This is a gift from God, and we will still do our work.” Even if we are directly targeted, here in Lebanon we say that God will keep our safe. We have faith in God, and he will.
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