“Where are the Hezbollah fighters?” a distressed woman asked. “We are all civilians here.”
Mohammed Sukayneh picked his way through the rubble and twisted metal, clutching a few plastic bags—his only belongings salvaged from the home he had lived in for 45 years. Just last night, an Israeli airstrike flattened his building, killing 18 people, including four children, according to Lebanon’s Health Ministry.
This attack struck without warning in a location many believed to be safe—just 150 meters from the Rafik Hariri hospital, the largest public hospital in southern Beirut. Mohammed, along with his family, was asleep when devastation hit.
“We didn’t understand what was happening,” he recalled. “After the strike, we heard this ‘boom, boom, boom,’ and the whole world was turned upside down. Stones, metal, steel, fresh blood—everything fell on us. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe; it was like you were suffocating.”
He mentioned five neighbors still trapped beneath the rubble. Others were killed instantly, including two 19-year-old girls sitting just outside his door. At 54 years old, Mohammed survived with a grazed arm, but his 20-year-old nephew lies in intensive care. “Half of his brain is crushed,” he said, his voice filled with pain.
A civil defense worker at the scene informed us that six residential buildings had collapsed, most being three or four stories tall. Nearby, a veiled woman sat on the ground, hands on her head, rocking in distress. “There are no Hezbollah fighters here; we are all civilians,” she insisted. A neighbor earnestly added, “Everyone was thrown into the air.”
Minutes later, more bodies were uncovered and carried away in black body bags. I asked Mohammed what he believed Israel was targeting in such a densely populated area.
“They are striking everything randomly,” he replied, his voice tinged with anger. “They can’t even see that there are children present. What weapons are here? Where are the rockets? They are blind, these Israeli enemies.”
The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) claimed to have targeted a “Hezbollah terrorist site near the hospital,” though they did not specify what the target was. They insisted the hospital itself was not struck.
Rafik Hariri hospital’s director, Jihad Saadeh, confirmed it had been hit by shrapnel but asserted that the facility was functioning normally and would remain open. In stark contrast, Al Sahel Private Hospital, located about 2 kilometers away, was hastily cleared. “We evacuated instantly, like crazy,” recounted Dr. Mazen Alameh, the general manager. “We can’t gamble with anyone’s life; we can’t assume they won’t bomb us.”
This rapid evacuation involved 10 patients and 50 staff after the Israeli military publicly proclaimed that the hospital was built over a Hezbollah bunker. While the IDF provided no evidence to support this, they did release a 3D animation suggesting a hidden bunker beneath the building, claiming it was filled with cash and gold. “There could be hundreds of millions of dollars in that bunker,” the IDF spokesman Rear Adm. Daniel Hagari alleged, sounding almost like a call to a heist.
Today, hospital management and staff vehemently denied Israel’s claims and offered us a tour, including two underground floors. Although located in a Hezbollah stronghold, they insisted the hospital was not affiliated with any group. “It’s shocking to claim that Al Sahel Hospital is connected to any political party in Lebanon,” Dr. Alameh stated. “It’s a private teaching hospital made for doctors and medical students.”
He dismissed the notion of a hidden bunker outright. “This hospital was established 40 years ago in an old building. There’s no way there could be any tunnels or infrastructure below it. Anyone can come and see for themselves.”
We were invited to investigate every area, including the morgue, where surgical instruments and supplies were opened to demonstrate there was nothing hidden. Afterward, we roamed freely, witnessing empty wards and anxious staff but no evidence of a bunker.
Israel claimed the entrance to this supposed bunker was in a neighboring building, which we also examined, gaining access to the parking lot. If there was indeed a concealed entrance, we could not find it. The only door we encountered led to an elevator that was locked, but it did not appear concealed nor likely to lead to a vault of gold.
As we left the hospital, an Israeli drone circled overhead, and the IDF stated they were “monitoring the area” but would not strike the hospital directly.
For now, Al Sahel remains closed, but the medical staff is eager to return to caring for patients. “We are an institution dedicated to helping people,” Dr. Walid Alameh, the medical director, shared. “This hospital was founded by my father. This is my home. Hopefully, we will reopen tomorrow.”
Yet, Israel continues its wartime strategy. This afternoon, another bombing shook Beirut, dangerously close to the hospital and adjacent to Hezbollah territory. As an IDF spokesman called for residents of several nearby buildings to evacuate due to their proximity to Hezbollah facilities, two more multi-story buildings crumbled into clouds of smoke and ash.
Fear grips homes and hospitals alike in this tumultuous environment.
