Thirty White Helmets worked in the Bab Al-Neirab center located in Aleppo.

Even with the threat of danger, life had to go on: "On each mission, there is a 50% chance for me to die, and a 50% chance to live." But in the end, I will still leave my mark. I left children who will live, and beautify our future. » Rady, White Helmet. 
Under bombs from the Syrian regime and the Russian army, White Helmets (also known as "Syrian Civil Defense") rushed to rescue and extract the wounded trapped under the ruins of buildings reduced to ashes. 

In a town without public services, these humanitarian volunteers risked their lives to help civilians in distress. The White Helmets helped all the wounded, with the same courage, with no difference in treatment according to the political and religious sensibilities of the latter. Recognized for their distinctive style (the white helmet), these rescuers operated in one of the most dangerous places in the world.

In Aleppo, I followed the White Helmets for a period of time with the intention of documenting their actions. During the five years of war, they were able to save more than 100,000 lives. Former cooks, pastry chefs, engineers, pharmacists, painters, students, carpenters, and many other professionals... all ages and stages of life. Many have paid a high price for their compassion: 252 have died saving lives. As one of them, my father died in the course of his mission.

In his early twenties, Loai defected from the Syrian army, which after the war had turned into an army that bombed cities and killed people, to join the Syrian Civil Defense so that he could protect the people.​​​​​​​
                               A bombing has killed Hasan and Hasan.
You can start the day and expect someone to die, and realize that reality catches up with the thought, more than once, or else, expect the unexpected to guide your day without anything happening, and as a result, your day will be abnormal. " It's strange to be suffocated in this atmosphere, to be the backbone of your community. People live a fairly normal life, but in the civil defense center, it's different. To live in suffering every day, to have a flag with each bombardment, to have to go there. Then the day passes and we listen to the stories of others. Sharing this suffering brings about a kind of oppression. Listening to the stories of people in pain makes me feel guilty and think that I am not doing enough. ” Ismail Al-Abdullah

Survival was a daily adventure and the meaning of life is so great In the love of life, in the love of immortalizing these moments of youth, to prove we were there. We want to live, we want to laugh, and it was unreasonable to sit and wait for death!!

On July 09, 2016, I found my father at the scene of a bombing where he had just arrived with his fellow White Helmets to help the victims. Like every day in this hell, I took pictures as they tried to save adults and children from the rubble. Each to their own. Suddenly, a second bombardment took place in the same place (the regime's favorite technique in order to 'annihilate the relief forces). 
I was used to it, being blind and lost for a few moments, brushing against death, then grabbing my camera again a few seconds later. This time, I heard my father's colleagues cry out his name… I saw him, on the ground, inert and dismembered. I followed him in the ambulance. He then said to me “I'm going to die, take care of you”. These were his last words. 
I grew up in a family where no one really understood my work as a photographer: it was not a "real job". My father was the only one who supported me. I could talk to him about photography for hours, and he listened to me, even if he didn't take a huge interest in it… He just believed in me.
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