Hussein Jaber would leave love notes around the house for his wife to find before heading to work at the Nabatieh Civil Defence headquarters, one of the most dangerous jobs in southern Lebanon as the war between Israel and Hezbollah drags on.
This month, the couple celebrated their first anniversary and discussed starting a family. Now his wife, Areej Ramal, sits at his grave sobbing as she hugs his uniform jacket around her body.
“He was always working … even though we always told him to be careful,” she told The National at the paramedic’s funeral. “He did all of it expecting nothing in return.’’
Mr Jaber, along with his colleague Ahmad Noura, was killed on Tuesday in a direct strike by Israel. The rescue workers were hit as they tried to treat a wounded delivery driver seeking help at the Civil Defence headquarters in Nabatieh, witnesses said.
“The young man came to us because he considered us his protection. He was injured in the leg but still able to move – dragging himself, screaming: 'Help me, help me',” said Civil Defence rescuer Hussein Dakdouk, who was on site when his two colleagues were killed.
The delivery driver, Mahdi Atwe, was attacked in Nabatieh's town square during a ceasefire that has done little to halt the death and destruction in Lebanon.
As soon as Mr Atwe arrived near the centre, a second strike hit Mr Jaber and Mr Noura directly as they worked to dress his wounds. The strike killed all three and injured a female paramedic.
“Israel knows we’re Civil Defence. [Our headquarters] has been here for weeks. They know,” said Mr Dakdouk.
As Mr Jaber and Mr Noura ran towards the injured delivery man, Mr Dakdouk was preparing an ambulance to take him to the hospital. “If I hadn’t got into the ambulance I might have been killed too," he said.
Mr Jaber and Mr Noura are among nine members of the Lebanese Civil Defence killed by Israel since the war with Hezbollah resumed on March 2 – most of them during the so-called ceasefire. Six of the nine rescuers were killed after it took effect on April 17, according to Civil Defence spokesman Elie Khairallah.
The Lebanese Civil Defence, a state-owned emergency medical service, operates across the entire country. Israel has also attacked other emergency services, including the Lebanese Red Cross, the Islamic Risala Scout Association, the Islamic Health Organisation and the Nabatieh Ambulance Association.
Overall, at least 105 emergency workers have been killed since the war began, according to Lebanon’s Health Ministry.
Rescuers are protected under the laws of armed conflict, regardless of their political affiliations. Lebanese officials, human rights groups and rescue workers have repeatedly accused Israel of deliberately attacking them.
War resumed in Lebanon in early March when Hezbollah launched rockets into northern Israel, joining the war against Israel and the US in support of its main ally, Iran.
Israel’s retaliation has since killed at least 2,896 people in Lebanon, by the Lebanese Health Ministry’s count, and displaced nearly a million people from the south.
Israeli troops now maintain an occupation zone about 7km into Lebanese territory while conducting daily air raids on other parts of Lebanon, such as Nabatieh – which is outside of Israel’s "security zone" between it and Hezbollah, south of the Litani River.
Of the almost 3,000 people killed in Israeli attacks, 380 died after the implementation of the so-called ceasefire.
In southern Lebanon, Civil Defence crews and other emergency services work round the clock to save lives, retrieve the bodies of the dead from conflict-affected areas, and distribute food aid.
‘Everyone is a target’
Mr Jaber and Mr Noura were both veteran rescue workers who had experienced close calls on many occasions. Mr Noura suffered a head injury when the roof of a burning building collapsed on him, while Mr Jaber was nearly killed in an Israeli strike near the Civil Defence headquarters in March.
Rescue workers in southern Lebanon routinely witness colleagues killed on duty, knowing it could just as easily have been them or that they could be next. It is a reality they openly acknowledge.
“On the ground, every one of us is a member of the living dead,” Mr Dakouk told The National.
On every visit to Nabatieh – three since March 2 – The National inadvertently found itself attending funerals for paramedics killed in the line of duty: a 16-year-old volunteer killed while distributing food in the town; victims of a quadruple-tap attack on rescuers in a nearby village; and finally those killed in the attack at the entrance to the Civil Defence centre.
It is by no means an exhaustive account of paramedic deaths in Nabatieh. The National’s reporters had initially arranged to interview Mr Jaber on Wednesday for a story unrelated to paramedics – only to end up reporting on his death.
“Israel doesn’t discriminate between the sick or injured, or old or young. Everyone is a target to them,” Mr Dakouk said.
The deliberate attacks on paramedics and emergency crews have not deterred them.
A deep commitment
“It makes us happy to know that we’re helping people; to hear a mother’s blessing when we save her child,” said Mohamad Bashir, a rescuer who was close to Mr Noura, at the funeral for the two paramedics.
“He was defending his land the way he knew how, through humanitarian work.”
At the Nabatieh centre, the atmosphere is heavy. A day after the killings, Mr Jaber and Mr Noura’s colleagues were openly grieving, their eyes swollen with tears, still struggling to process the loss of colleagues who had become more than family. Since the war began, they have worked relentlessly, sleeping at the station and carrying out life-risking missions together.
“We ate together, drank together, lived together, like a family,” Mr Dakdouk said. The veteran rescuer had known Mr Noura for 25 years, and said he was more “than a brother” to him.
A teary Hussein Saad, one of Mr Jaber’s best friends, said he was the reason he had joined the Lebanese Civil Defence. Seeing him, lying dead on the ground, numbed all feelings. “I blocked everything,” he said. Tattered, blood-soaked pants; boots ripped to shreds; a protective chest plate; and pieces of shrapnel – these were all that was left of Mr Jaber’s uniform.
“There’s always heartbreak,” Mr Dakdouk said. “But we have to keep doing our work. Their sacrifice strengthened our resolve."
The Nabatieh Civil Defence team was already back at work on Wednesday. Despite the grief and the lack of accountability for the systematic attacks on their colleagues, the crews shrugged dismissively at the notion of the Geneva Convention protecting rescue workers.
“We wouldn’t recognise ourselves anymore if we left our duty,” rescuer Fadel Kalakech said.
This deep commitment to the Civil Defence was shared by both Mr Jaber and Mr Noura. In 2024, Mr Jaber told The National he had “seen massive destruction and savagery”, with Israel attacking “everything and respecting nothing”. In his last interview in 2026, he told the newspaper that “no one working in an ambulance or Civil Defence feels safe".
“But it’s our duty to respond and go see each strike, see the wounded and see their homes,” he added.
“He chose this path,” said Ms Ramal, Mr Jaber’s widow. “And thank God – he died doing what he wanted.” She nearly fainted under the weight of her grief as she spoke.
