Gaza – He would run a little, then fall to the ground and continue crawling, then get back up, driven by the knowledge that no one would save him unless he saved himself. Jabir kept shouting, "I'm injured, I'm injured," hoping someone would hear him and prevent him from dying in silence, becoming prey to the dogs, as had happened to his friends.
For 20 minutes, Jabir struggled to save himself after being injured, along with other displaced people, by a shell during their crossing of what the Israeli occupation forces called the "safe road" to western Gaza. Despite their white flags, they were not allowed to pass safely. His companions were martyred, and Jabir remained resilient until he collapsed, unconscious, near the hospital gate.
Two days after Jabir’s injury, his brother Mohamed risked leaving Kamal Adwan Hospital to search for food and water at their home. On his way back, he was shot by a drone on the corner of the road. His mother heard someone scream, "Injured near the gate." Her heart knew, and she rushed to him without considering the dangers.
She reached him and began dragging him alone, muttering "I came for you, my son," until some young people helped her drag him to an area where they could assist. It was a legendary scene with a mother whose maternal instinct overcame her fear of the army and its military arsenal.
Martyrdom of the Mother of the Injured
Mohamed's injury was critical, requiring surgery by doctors who were not specialized in his injury, but it was their attempt to stop the bleeding and keep him alive. The mother sat between the bodies of her two injured sons, one on a bed and the other on the floor due to the full beds of injured patients. She was shackled by helplessness and tormented by hunger and cold, with no food, water, or blankets. She took advantage of a moment when her sons were asleep and left.
The two young men woke up searching for their mother. One of the young men shouted, "There’s a woman in a black abaya and veil bleeding near the gate." Jabir shouted, "It’s my mother," recalling a conversation they had earlier when he asked her to flee to the western part of the city. She had refused, saying, "Either you’ll bury me here or I’ll bury you," to which he replied, "God willing, we’ll find a place to be buried."
Jabir recalls the horrors of the siege of Kamal Adwan Hospital, when the occupation forces began using scorched earth tactics with firebombs and explosive robots around the hospital. "Rockets fell like rain from every direction," he says.
Hours later, dozens of military vehicles surrounded the hospital, calling for the director, Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, and for individuals by name to surrender, though they were not present. Orders followed to evacuate the medical staff, then the companions, and then the wounded who could walk. Finally, the nurses were told to bring down the injured on stretchers as they began to set fire to the hospital.
Jabir recounts the sequence of events, which seem like chapters from a bloody film, the victims being doctors, patients, and unarmed children. Under the threat of weapons, the occupation forces forced everyone from the hospital to the Al-Fakhoura school for checkpoint and interrogation.
The besieged people surrounding the hospital used the opportunity to flee, with over 500 displaced people. Jabir says, "They were taking us in groups of 20 into the interrogation rooms. I underwent a harsh two-hour interrogation where the soldiers deliberately hit my injuries, which were wrapped in splints, causing them to bleed again." He summed up the experience by saying, "May God spare it from anyone."
Aggression Against the Wounded
Meanwhile, his brother Mohamed was in the hospital yard with about 35 injured people who could not move. The occupation forces had set fire to the upper floors of the hospital. Mohamed says, "They burned the archives and pharmacy sections, and the fire spread to the laundry. We asked for our papers, medications, and supplies, and the officer replied, 'We burned everything.'"
After waiting for seven hours in the freezing hospital yard without receiving treatment, the soldiers ordered ambulances to take the injured to Al-Fakhoura school, where they were subjected to humiliating interrogations despite their injuries.
Mohamed recalls shocking details during the interrogation, where soldiers raised their phones and forced patients to curse the resistance leaders. When some refused, they were beaten on their injured areas, causing them to bleed again.
"We were crammed into three ambulances, and every few meters, we needed Israeli coordination. We traveled on rough, potholed roads, causing our pain to intensify. We waited at the gate of the Indonesian hospital for the coordination to cross the checkpoint into western Gaza."
After many hours of waiting for coordination, they were allowed to wait another round at the Israeli checkpoint, where the occupation forces ordered the ambulances to pull aside until the displaced people were searched and interrogated again, though they had already been through this at the school.
The ambulance driver carrying intensive care patients told the officer, "The oxygen will run out if we stay here longer." The officer responded, "Get out of here." After more hours, the officer ordered the injured to get off the ambulances. Mohamed says, "One of the patients, who had pelvic fractures, reached out to a soldier to help him get down. The soldier grabbed him, threw him to the ground, and said, 'Ask Al-Sinwar to help you.'"
The humiliating journey from Kamal Adwan Hospital to the Shifa Medical Complex in Gaza City took two full days. During that time, the injured received no medicine or food, and they were subjected to the harshest methods of torture and humiliation.
"Embracing my children and my wife was like entering paradise after hell," Mohamed says as he kisses his children, who were in his arms during his interview with Al Jazeera. "Meeting them was a dream I almost lost hope in achieving."
Assault on Women
The atrocities committed by the occupation army at Kamal Adwan Hospital were not limited to the male wounded. A 14-year-old girl shared her testimony about the assault she and other girls of her age faced when armed soldiers led them to the bathroom of Al-Fakhoura School, where they were forced to flee with their families under the threat of weapons.
The soldiers began demanding that they remove their veils and raise their clothes, and when the girls refused, they started to assault them physically. Mariam tells Al Jazeera, "They asked us to confess to the presence of armed people inside the hospital and to reveal the phones and weapons we were hiding. When we denied having anything, they didn't believe us and began to touch us in an insulting manner."
Mariam continues her account with a trembling voice, "The soldiers pulled us by our hair, hitting my head against the window while shouting, 'Where are the militants’ belongings? Show us what you have!' and continued to strike my head."
Amidst these events, Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya was shouting after being beaten, as the occupation army forced him toward the tank in front of the hospital. They began threatening him, saying, "You go on Al Jazeera and say this happened to you." He replied, "This is what is happening at the hospital, this is what is happening." They told him, "Even if this is true, don’t say it," and continued to beat him.
Mariam ends her testimony with a sigh, saying, "All of this happened, and I don’t know how I will forget this injustice and oppression." Then, she comforts herself by saying, "The truth does not die."
Removal of the Veil or Beaten
Dr. Alaa Abu Aoukal, who tirelessly treated the wounded at Kamal Adwan Hospital, describes the difficulty of the situation: "We couldn't sleep due to the constant influx of patients, massacres around the clock. How could I abandon my professional duty and leave the hospital?"
Price Paid for Defying the Oppressor
Dr. Alaa Abu Aoukal paid a heavy price, enduring some of the hardest moments of her life during the siege of Kamal Adwan Hospital, which became a battlefield. Along with dozens of her colleagues, she was taken to the al-Fakhura school, where they were subjected to humiliating, naked searches.
Aoukal recalls, "I was forced to remove my veil and medical clothes during the search. Those of us who refused were brutally beaten."
She describes the forced displacement ordered by the Israeli occupation: "It wasn't just a distance to cover; it was an indescribable journey of torment. I can't put it into words. Children as young as five were struggling to walk through the rugged roads, surrounded by dust, smoke, and the terrifying sound of tanks. Some women left their belongings behind, while others collapsed from fear and exhaustion."
Aoukal struggles with the fear of what happened to her colleagues, who were abducted and taken to unknown locations. She expresses deep frustration with the world for failing to intervene, saying, "We pleaded with the world for three months to save us before we were wiped out. They literally annihilated us, and Kamal Adwan collapsed."