An entire generation of Syrians has never known freedom and so when it swept over them, last Sunday, there was shock, then joy, and a desperate hope that it might last. Damascus is a city nearly 5,000 years old. But over this decade the war has seemed like the end of civilization. Half a million Syrians are dead. Thirteen million have been forced from their homes. This past week we traveled 300 miles on the road to Damascus to meet a people awakening from 50 years of dictatorship.        

Take the road to Damascus from the east and you find the suburb of Ein Tarma. The outskirts of one of the great cities of history has been bombed into the stone age. This was President Bashar al-Assad’s answer to mostly unarmed protests that began in 2011. Many who rose against Assad then, are still here. That’s the Zidane family.

Mohammed Saeed Zidane (in Arabic with Pelley translation): We were living here in peace. When we just demanded freedom and to be able to earn our daily bread, the Assad regime started bombing us.

Mohammed Saeed Zidane and his wife Nihal have lived here two years.

Scott Pelley: When you came back here after the shelling what did you see, what did you think?

Nihal Al-Alawi (in Arabic with Pelley translation): We couldn’t hold back our tears when we came back here. We’re not nomads. But what could we do?

No electricity, no running water. Fifteen families in the Zidane building alone. Six flights up, 70-year-old Najah Zidane burns rags to cook—there’s no fuel, no trees. The ceiling looks exhausted and winter comes this week. 

We’d like to show you the immensity. But we can’t because the ruins run for miles in every direction. And this is what you would see in most every Syrian city. To stay in power, Assad left his people to starve. so Mohammed Zidane built a furrow from broken bricks to farm radishes, spring onions and coriander. 

Scott Pelley: When you first heard that Assad was gone. Could you believe it?

Mohammed Saeed Zidane (in Arabic with Pelley translation): We felt like everyone else, like we were in a bad dream and finally woke up!

Nihal Al-Alawi (in Arabic with Pelley translation): SHE SAID We’re still in shock. Is he gone for real?

On the road, the signposts of history tell the backstory. Hafez al-Assad, the father, ruled from 1970. The bullet holes give you a sense of how he’s remembered. 

Then, in the year 2000, the son, Bashar, continued the brutal police state. 

We’ve been covering the civil war for 12 years. It began with an exodus of millions — at the time — the greatest humanitarian catastrophe since World War II. 

This berm marks the border between Syria and Jordan. The refugees that we ran into were coming across the top of the berm and turning themselves in to the safety of the Jordanian border officers here.

We reported on the relentless bombardment of civilians and the rescue work of Syrians known as the White Helmets … 

…they’re civil defense volunteers who have given thousands a second chance at life. 

We covered Assad’s 2013 nerve gas and chemical attacks that killed an estimated 1,400 civilians. 

By 2015, Russia and Iran had joined the war to prop up Assad’s forces. Russian airstrikes saved Assad. And we saw bombed hospitals in rebel territory—a war crime.

Everyone’s afraid of being beside a hospital because they know the hospital is going to be a target in an airstrike.  

And with half a million Syrians dead, we met a generation of orphans. 

Last year, we reported on Syrians left destitute, by a massive earthquake in rebel territory.

Until this fall, the rebels had been cornered in the north. Assad had all but won the war. But this month, his allies abandoned him. Vladimir Putin had exhausted Russian forces in Ukraine. Iran was fighting Israel. So three weeks ago, the rebels saw the chance and swept through the major cities to Damascus. Assad’s army, hollowed out by corruption, simply ran away. The dictator fled to Moscow. 

We found nearly all you need to know about Assad’s rule in examination room two at Damascus Hospital. These corpses are Assad’s prisoners from a notorious jail. Dr. Ayman Nasser told us that he received 35 bodies.

Dr. Ayman Nasser (in Arabic with Pelley translation): There is one with severe signs of torture. HE SAID Many of the bodies show signs of malnutrition or lack of oxygen from overcrowding in the places where they were kept. The cause of death was most likely multiple organ failure caused by malnutrition.

Starved to death in a prison. They were the last to die of untold thousands of political opponents who vanished into Assad’s jails over the decades. When word spread on Facebook that 35 were here, the desperate came searching for the damned.

Scott Pelley: Who are you looking for?

Fayza Hussein al-Ali’s son was arrested.  

Fayza Hussein al-Ali (in Arabic with Pelley translation): There are so many like my son. From our village alone, about 70 prisoners. We are drowning in sorrow; our hearts are burning. I am like every mother here, crushed by pain every day  The regime killed two of my sons.  One was killed by a sniper for no reason. The other died rescuing survivors from airstrikes when planes bombed them again. And he had a girl and a boy.

Scott Pelley: Who are you looking for?

Susan al-Tunji (in Arabic with Pelley translation): My son, SUSAN AL-TUNJI TOLD US.

Like many, she received a death certificate from the prison years ago, but no body—no proof.

Scott Pelley: How long has he been missing? 

Susan al-Tunji (in Arabic with Pelley translation): Twelve years. I pray I find him. Even if he is dead, it’s OK, just give me the body. All I want is to find some rest.

Forensic pathologists compare photos, and teeth…this doctor asks a relative…

Scott Pelley: Do you have a picture of him smiling? 

In this way, they have identified 18 so far. Dr. Nasser told us, 

Dr. Ayman Nasser (in Arabic with Pelley translation): We empathize and we do our best to help. But the pressure from the families is overwhelming,

We saw that when we met the rage of people who have never known justice.  

Taghreed al-Badawi’s son disappeared 12 years ago 

Taghreed al-Badawi (in Arabic with Pelley translation): [Assad] is a war criminal. Someone like him should die like a dog. He and the Assad family should be executed for the horrors we now see.

Scott Pelley: Who is this, sir?

Fauwaz al-Khatib (in Arabic with Pelley translation): This is my son, HE TOLD US, ARRESTED IN 2013 

Fauwaz al-Khatib (in Arabic with Pelley translation) They took him at a checkpoint. He was driving a bus for a living. 

Scott Pelley: Who is this? 

Rama Al-Buka’e: My brother. 

Scott Pelley: Show me, this is your brother? What is his name?

In 2012, her brother was arrested on his way to a store.

Rama Al-Buka’e (in Arabic with Pelley translation): They gave us his ID card and told my mother never to ask about him again. They are a bunch of butchers.

Scott Pelley: Who is this?

Al-Shouha: My brother. 

Scott Pelley: And how long has he been missing?

Al-Shouha: Thirteen years now, Sednaya. 

Scott Pelley: Thirteen years in the prison?  You did not find him here?

Al-Shouha: No.

Scott Pelley: Do you have hope that you will find him?

Al-Shouha (in Arabic with Pelley translation) We do have hope, HE SAID, God willing.

Hope and apprehension are spilling into the streets of Damascus. Most of this city of about two and a half million people is intact because this was the dictator’s stronghold. No one under the age of 54 has ever known freedom, has ever been able to speak of politics above a whisper. That’s a tough memory to break. One man told us, “We got Assad out of Syria now we have to get him out of us.” 

There was joy in the crowd headed for Friday prayers. 75 percent of Syrians are from the largest branch of Islam—the Sunnis. And the rebel leaders are Sunni fundamentalists. But no one knows yet how minority Muslim sects and Christians will be protected.

The leader of the rebels is 42-year-old Ahmed al-Aharaa. In 2013 the U.S. named him a terrorist and, later, put a $10 million bounty on his head. But so far, al-Sharaa has kept order—there’s little sign of destruction, looting or reprisals and government workers are on the job. The people do not know yet how they will be governed. Peace seems to be in the hearts of many. But, the shooting hasn’t stopped entirely.

Israel, last week, grabbed the chance to bomb what’s left of Syria’s military. The U.S. is hitting remnants of ISIS terrorists in central Syria. As for Russia, satellite pictures of its major naval base on Syria’s Mediterranean coast, now reveal that the ships are gone.  

Back where we began, in the Damascus suburb Ein Tarma, we saw the immensity of what lies ahead. It will take hundreds of billions of dollars to rebuild Syria and Syria is destitute. Mohammed Zidane and his wife are resigned to live here. Besides, a new home is not what they want the most. They want their 39-year-old son. In 2012, he was stopped at an Assad regime checkpoint and they never heard from him again. 

Scott Pelley: What does that mean for your lives now that Assad is gone?

Mohammed Saeed Zidane (in Arabic with Pelley translation): This feels like a new birth, a new beginning. Though my hair has turned gray, and my time has passed, we feel, thank God, young again. 

Nihal Al-Alawi (in Arabic with Pelley translation): We hope, by the hands of our young people, God willing, it will be better than it was before.

A new Syria is likely to be built by the kind of people who look out on despair…and somehow see a future. Experience tells Syrians they have no reason to hope that freedom will last—and yet, that hope endures. 

Produced by Nicole Young, Kristin Steve and Aaron Weisz. Associate producers, Alex Ortiz and Ian Flickinger. Broadcast associates, Michelle Karim and Georgia Rosenberg. Edited by Peter M. Berman. Assistant editor, Aisha Crespo.