I wake up very early. It is dawn and the sun will come up again. Another busy day. Let’s prepare the beds. Prepare the bandages. “Move that table, let’s clean the floor. Mr. Andrew, pour some water on that spot of blood so the civilians who are rushed in to the New York Medics clinic will not be afraid,” instructs Katherine Bequary, looking very serious. She is from the United States and has travelled thousands of miles to provide medical care to the wounded – both civilians and military.It’s a new day and I expect it will be busy. A siren grows quickly louder, and an ambulance charges into the yard of the clinic, throwing up dust as it stops. What will be inside it this time? A wounded child with a severed hand? A soldier who lost his leg? An old woman who was crushed beneath the rubble?“It does not matter. Even if it is a wounded ISIS member we will treat him,” says Kathy, smiling. “We are better than them. You and I are simple humans whereas they are savages. I don’t care about your belief or religion or creed: whoever enters my clinic will receive treatment.”The ambulance door opens. Inside is a 12 year old girl drenched in blood -- her face swollen. At once, it is clear she was pulled from beneath the rubble of a house torn down by a rocket. The New York Medics team rushes to move her inside and examine her. While she sews up the girl’s brow, Kathy tries to distract her. Kathy tries to speak some words of Arabic and the girl replies in English. She studied at school before what happened in Mosul. The distant sound of a siren draws near again. “Be prepared – I think it is more than one ambulance!” shouts Kathy.Helped by the medical unit of the Rapid Response forces, the New York Medics team quickly carries in the wounded and lays them on beds. The team receives the wounded with broad smiles. Each time the patient cries in pain, they comfort him with words in a language he does not understand. But their smiles convey the feelings issued from the hearts of people who travelled across the ocean to offer their services.“I have no time for myself” says Kathy sitting on one of the beds. “I am here to help and most of what I see is sad. When I see a family come here I think of my own family. I love them very much but sometimes they get angry because most of the time I am working in some faraway place”.“Where is bag number f10742?” shouts Aaron Mindel. It contains the materials the patients need, he says, searching through the bags. I often see Aaron Mandel’s eyes brimming with tears. Each time he sees a patient his eyes well up. He is always asking me why this is happening to these poor people, and curses ISIS.Each bag has a code and every code refers to the kind of medicine and material it contains -- flown over from America. On the walls are maps, stickers marking workspace and the medicines present and tables in which the names of each patient are written, along with his details and name of the hospital to which he was transferred. Kathy’s phone is never silent. She calls one person after another, sending patients elsewhere.“How much do you earn?” I ask Mr. Davis Perkins. “My friend, we are volunteers and this organization is not for profit. We are here to help. I used to be a firefighter and I am also good at drawing,” he says, taking out his mobile phone to show me some of his pictures, which looked like the work of Davinchy. I kept talking but was drowning in thoughts about the kindness in the heart of that elderly man.Miss Kelly Hanzlik passes by carrying a bag of medical waste and takes it away. “We must destroy it,” she says. She lights a fire and places the bag on it. “We don’t want it to hurt the children after we leave the area.” She began to talk about the danger of those materials and my mind wandered. I thought how kind these people were. Mr. John caron came to help her, good-hearted and funny. He often helped others and always told jokes to make them laugh. He never let anyone pass by him in a bad mood.Andrew was talking to me once and he said "I have visited many countries and all the humans I have seen are similar, same Feelings and there is no difference."  I was amazed at their kindness, They are a team – a family. They help and respect each other, and I do not recall ever seeing them argue.Whatever we do, it will not be enough to thank those medics. I have tried to mention some of their countless virtues here. “When the world is I pain, we go the distance” is their slogan. Why? To watch? To take pictures? To help and take part in what happens there far away. Thanks to New York Medics and all those working for them, wherever they may be.