DW-WORLD.DE: Mr. Mohamad Ibrahim, can you tell us about how you sustained your injuries?

Mohamad Ibrahim: On the 10th day of our visit to relatives in southern Lebanon, the Israeli air force destroyed all the streets and routes in the area. Then they began bombing villages and cities. When they began bombing our village, Bleda, we ran into the cellar of our house. I was with my wife and my two children, Ali, who is 14, and Rola, who is 12, in the bunker when a rocket hit. Everything went dark and we just heard screaming.

We were all injured. My son almost lost his leg and still has stones and rocket shrapnel in his head. My daughter is suffering from many injuries and has had to undergo several operations, just as my wife has. My sister-in-law's brother lost both of his legs and his two-year-old daughter lost a finger.

Who rescued you?

After two hours of intense pain and bleeding, the people in the village heard our cries for help and called the Red Cross. The Red Cross ambulance evacuated me, the sister-in-law's brother and another child because we were the most seriously injured. They brought us to the hospital where we received first aid. But we couldn't be operated on there, or get the right kinds of medicine because the hospital was brand new and hadn't been completely equipped.

How did the German embassy help?

Two days later we told the embassy about what happened although officials there could not come get us because the situation was very dangerous. They asked us to come to Beirut in a Red Cross ambulance so they could take us to Cyprus and then on to Germany. In Beirut we had to wait for two days until they took us to the Beirut harbor, where a British military helicopter was waiting to get us to Cyprus. With a "yellow angel," one of the rescue jets belonging to ADAC (German Automobile Association), we were flown to Dortmund.

Ms. Fatima Ibrahim, can you describe your feelings when you saw that your village was being bombed?

We were always waiting for the next rocket down there in the bunker. And suddenly everything went dark and we didn't know if we were alive or dead. I heard the others screaming, which actually calmed me down somewhat, because it meant that some of us were still alive. I began to reach out and touch the people next to me, so I could recognize them. My sister did the same thing.

Afterwards, I pushed my daughter toward the door so she could have a little light to see by. Despite my injuries, I never gave up. I kept looking for my husband and son. In the rubble and darkness I heard my 14-year-old son screaming "Mamma, mamma, I can't move!" He is as big as me and I tried to bring him out of there. Then I saw that he had almost lost his leg. I carried him outside and started screaming for help. After about two hours, we were all taken to the hospital.