In the ravaged streets of Gaza, a small group of weary civil defense workers toil away in search of bodies buried beneath the rubble. Nooh al-Shaghnobi, a 24-year-old veteran of the force, leads the team with a stoic determination that belies the horrors he's witnessed.
Al-Shaghnobi recounts one particularly harrowing mission on September 17 near the al-Saha area of eastern Gaza City. Israeli forces had bombed a home, killing over 30 members of an extended family. Most of their bodies were trapped under the rubble. As al-Shaghnobi and his team pulled two dead girls from the wreckage, they continued to dig, crawling under collapsed floors.
The air grew thick with the scent of death as they delved deeper into the wreckage. Al-Shaghnobi described a scene that was "dreamlike and horrifying" – crawling past legs, arms, and bodies, with the ground shaking beneath their feet from bombings above. Suddenly, a young girl's voice pierced the air, calling out "I'm here! I'm here!" The team's ears perked up in unison as they followed the sound to a spot 12 meters under the rubble.
It was a moment of hope in an era of despair. Al-Shaghnobi and his team are tasked with recovering bodies from the rubble, but their efforts have been hampered by the lack of heavy equipment. The estimated number of missing bodies is staggering – around 10,000 – with local civil defense workers believing that these individuals still remain buried under the rubble.
The work is grueling, with teams often spending days on a single recovery operation. Al-Shaghnobi described one particularly difficult mission in which he was unable to save a young girl, who had been lying unconscious for hours. As his team reached her, she took one last gasp of air before passing away.
Despite the trauma they've witnessed, many civil defense workers continue to be driven by a sense of purpose and duty. Al-Shaghnobi explained that it's not just about finding bodies – it's about bringing hope back to families who have lost loved ones. "When you hear a voice," he said, "you know there is life. That's enough to make you risk your life to recover this alive soul."
As the team works tirelessly in the aftermath of the latest conflict, many wonder what will become of these 10,000 missing bodies. Will they ever be found? And for those who are still trapped beneath the rubble, when will hope come back to them?
The civil defense workers navigate these traumatic moments with a stoic resilience that belies the horrors they've witnessed. They wear special uniforms and gloves to protect themselves from the smell of decaying bodies, but even they can't escape its impact.
One worker, Alaa Khammash, described feeling terrible when his team is unable to rescue someone. He's worked for years without a break, living and sleeping at work as he searches for those buried beneath the rubble.
As the conflict rages on in Gaza, the civil defense workers remain steadfast in their duty – bringing hope back to families who have lost loved ones. But for many, the pain of loss runs deep, with Al-Shaghnobi describing a sense of numbness that has settled over him.
"It feels good because you found them," he said, "but bad because they are decomposed." The workers navigate this paradox – finding bodies brings relief, but it's also a stark reminder of what they've lost. As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, the silence is oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of rubble shifting beneath their feet.
For many in Gaza, death has become an all-too-familiar presence. Khammash described feeling like death surrounds him at every turn – a constant reminder that he's not safe, that anyone can be next. But even as they face this existential threat head-on, the civil defense workers refuse to give up.
As they work tirelessly in the rubble-strewn streets of Gaza, they hold onto hope – no matter how fragile it may seem. They know that one day, someone will call out for help, and with a surge of adrenaline and determination, they'll be there to answer.
Al-Shaghnobi recounts one particularly harrowing mission on September 17 near the al-Saha area of eastern Gaza City. Israeli forces had bombed a home, killing over 30 members of an extended family. Most of their bodies were trapped under the rubble. As al-Shaghnobi and his team pulled two dead girls from the wreckage, they continued to dig, crawling under collapsed floors.
The air grew thick with the scent of death as they delved deeper into the wreckage. Al-Shaghnobi described a scene that was "dreamlike and horrifying" – crawling past legs, arms, and bodies, with the ground shaking beneath their feet from bombings above. Suddenly, a young girl's voice pierced the air, calling out "I'm here! I'm here!" The team's ears perked up in unison as they followed the sound to a spot 12 meters under the rubble.
It was a moment of hope in an era of despair. Al-Shaghnobi and his team are tasked with recovering bodies from the rubble, but their efforts have been hampered by the lack of heavy equipment. The estimated number of missing bodies is staggering – around 10,000 – with local civil defense workers believing that these individuals still remain buried under the rubble.
The work is grueling, with teams often spending days on a single recovery operation. Al-Shaghnobi described one particularly difficult mission in which he was unable to save a young girl, who had been lying unconscious for hours. As his team reached her, she took one last gasp of air before passing away.
Despite the trauma they've witnessed, many civil defense workers continue to be driven by a sense of purpose and duty. Al-Shaghnobi explained that it's not just about finding bodies – it's about bringing hope back to families who have lost loved ones. "When you hear a voice," he said, "you know there is life. That's enough to make you risk your life to recover this alive soul."
As the team works tirelessly in the aftermath of the latest conflict, many wonder what will become of these 10,000 missing bodies. Will they ever be found? And for those who are still trapped beneath the rubble, when will hope come back to them?
The civil defense workers navigate these traumatic moments with a stoic resilience that belies the horrors they've witnessed. They wear special uniforms and gloves to protect themselves from the smell of decaying bodies, but even they can't escape its impact.
One worker, Alaa Khammash, described feeling terrible when his team is unable to rescue someone. He's worked for years without a break, living and sleeping at work as he searches for those buried beneath the rubble.
As the conflict rages on in Gaza, the civil defense workers remain steadfast in their duty – bringing hope back to families who have lost loved ones. But for many, the pain of loss runs deep, with Al-Shaghnobi describing a sense of numbness that has settled over him.
"It feels good because you found them," he said, "but bad because they are decomposed." The workers navigate this paradox – finding bodies brings relief, but it's also a stark reminder of what they've lost. As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, the silence is oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of rubble shifting beneath their feet.
For many in Gaza, death has become an all-too-familiar presence. Khammash described feeling like death surrounds him at every turn – a constant reminder that he's not safe, that anyone can be next. But even as they face this existential threat head-on, the civil defense workers refuse to give up.
As they work tirelessly in the rubble-strewn streets of Gaza, they hold onto hope – no matter how fragile it may seem. They know that one day, someone will call out for help, and with a surge of adrenaline and determination, they'll be there to answer.