We live together, or we die together.
On November 12, 2024, he said goodbye to Mahmoud. He hugged his father, kissed his mother and said goodbye to his brother.
He then spoke to his sisters on the phone, sharing with them what would become his last words.
There was something different about him that day. He seemed eager to leave, almost impatient to reach his destination.
His heart has already gone on a journey from which he will not return. He made his way to the Civil Defense Center.
There an emergency call came in: a wounded man needed rescue in his hometown of Manzouri. Mahmoud did not hesitate.
He climbed into the ambulance and set off toward what would become a mission of extraordinary courage and, ultimately, martyrdom.
Israeli surveillance drones circled above him in the sky. Fighter jets roared overhead. Airstrikes and bombings filled the horizon.
The sky itself became a battlefield, and every path was exposed to the machinery of war. But Mahmoud moved on.
When he arrived in the area, the airstrikes began. The danger was immediate. But he refused to return.
With his life literally in his hands, he strode towards his wounded friend.
The road was long and treacherous; The ambulance was unable to reach the injured.
Mahmoud could wait. He could have backed out. Instead, he took a stretcher and his medical equipment and continued on foot, making his way across an exposed landscape with no shelter from the relentless airstrikes.
He walked alone, carrying everything he needed to save a life.
When he finally arrived, he found a man who had been suffering for hours in excruciating pain. Mahmoud carefully lifted him onto the stretcher and began the arduous journey back.
It was a grueling climb, with no cover, no protection, and no safe passage.
Above them floated and hunted the vessels of war. Below them a young rescuer was carrying a wounded man toward life.