Beirut, Lebanon – The winds of war have long whispered over the hills of Lebanon, but in the last year, they carried the names of those who led Hezbolá’s resistance. These men, once shadows in the field of battle, have now become symbols etched in memory, after Israel’s relentless targeting of their ranks. In the span of months, leaders who held the weight of their people’s hopes were claimed by the storm of conflict, their names now woven into the fabric of history.
Fuad Shukr: The Quiet Pillar Falls
On a summer night in July, the earth trembled beneath the weight of loss. Fuad Shukr, a commander hidden from the public eye but known as a pillar within Hezbolá’s ranks, met his fate. He had stood alongside Hasan Nasralá, guiding Hezbolá’s hand in their long struggle against Israel. His life, marked by quiet determination, ended in the suburbs of South Beirut. It was a night when sorrow mingled with resilience.
Shukr, a man whose hands had long shaped Hezbolá’s defense, was believed by Israel to have been behind a deadly attack in the Golan Heights, one that took the lives of twelve young souls. But in his passing, Hezbolá’s voice grew louder, vowing that his death would not go unanswered. His legacy, like a sturdy tree struck by lightning, would inspire roots of defiance to grow even deeper.
Ibrahim Aqil: The Heart of Radwan, Silenced
Ibrahim Aqil, a name that once struck fear into enemies and carried the pride of the Radwan unit, fell in September alongside fifteen of his fighters. That day, the skies opened and brought destruction to South Beirut, leaving a scar on the streets and in the hearts of those who fought with him. Aqil, who had founded the Radwan unit, had built it into Hezbolá’s elite force, a force feared and revered alike.
His past was riddled with battles, both remembered and forgotten. The Department of State had long named him a terrorist, and Washington sought him for his role in the bombings of 1983. Yet, to his people, he was more than the titles given by outsiders; he was a protector. As Beirut mourned the loss of not just a soldier but a symbol, whispers of vengeance stirred in the silence left by his passing.
Ali Karake: A Narrow Escape
While some were not as fortunate, the hand of fate spared Ali Karake. In late September, an Israeli strike aimed for him, yet missed. For a few hours, the world believed that Hezbolá had lost its third most senior military figure. But soon after, Karake’s voice broke through the noise, claiming his safety. “I am well,” he said, in a tone as resolute as the mountains that line Southern Lebanon.
Even in his narrow escape, the strike left an imprint. It was a reminder that in the game of war, no one remains untouched, and the target on Karake’s back still looms large.
Ibrahim Kobeisi: A Beacon of Precision, Lost
September had not yet closed its eyes when Ibrahim Kobeisi was also claimed by Israel’s unyielding offensive. The commander, known for his mastery over Hezbolá’s precision missile units, was taken in a strike that sent shockwaves through Hezbolá’s tactical operations. Kobeisi, who had walked the path of the resistance since 1982, had been a man of knowledge, of careful planning, and of dangerous skill.
Israel hailed his death as a significant blow to Hezbolá’s military capabilities, but among his people, he was seen as another thread cut too soon in the ever-fraying rope of their struggle. The loss of his mind, so deeply entwined with Hezbolá’s missile strategy, was felt not just in military ranks but in the hearts of those who had stood with him on that long road toward resistance.
Mohamed Srur: The Eye in the Sky, Closed Forever
Then came the end of Mohamed Srur, a man who had seen the battlefield from above. The leader of Hezbolá’s drone unit was killed in Beirut just days after Kobeisi’s death. Srur had been the eyes of the resistance, overseeing operations from the sky with a precision that Israel feared. But his flight, like so many others before him, was brought down, leaving Hezbolá with one fewer voice and one less shield in their growing arsenal.
As Srur’s life came to an end, Hezbolá stood with wounded pride. They had lost not just a commander but a symbol of their future capabilities, their ability to see beyond the present into a war that constantly evolved.
A Year of Strikes, A Year of Sorrow
The names Fuad Shukr, Ibrahim Aqil, Ibrahim Kobeisi, Mohamed Srur, and others who have fallen, now live on in the stories told around fires, in whispers between soldiers, and in the tears of those who knew them. The Israeli airstrikes over the past year have taken their toll on Hezbolá, a toll that resonates through the streets of Beirut and the valleys of Southern Lebanon. These men, who once stood tall as the defenders of their people, have now become memories, but their memories burn brightly, igniting the resolve of those left behind.
In every loss, there is the seed of resilience. In every strike, the call to rise again. For as long as the mountains of Lebanon stand, so too will those who refuse to bow.
