In June 2014, during Iraq’s second civil war, Islamic State fighters captured Mosul. A few weeks later, Qaraqosh, a predominantly Christian town 32 kilometres away, met the same fate. In a single night, its 50,000 residents fled to Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan.

For more than two years, the abandoned town served as a base for the Islamic State, used as a warehouse, weapons factory and training ground. A network of tunnels ran beneath it; some reached Mosul, 27 kilometres away. Homes were looted and often set alight from within. Churches were ransacked, and Christian symbols were smashed and left in plain view. In all, 62 percent of homes were partly destroyed and 36 percent burned down.

Within Qaraqosh’s Christian community, resistance took shape under General Benham, a former Iraqi army officer. A Christian militia formed, determined to retake the town when the battle came. More than 300 men took up arms to reclaim their homes and churches. Some were students, bakers and poets; others had served in the army but no longer felt welcome as Christians. The Nineveh Plain Protection Unit (NPU) received U.S. support: Kalashnikovs, PKC guns and several weeks of training.

The battle for Mosul began on 17 October 2016, and the NPU formally joined the campaign. Six days later, it received last-minute clearance to attack alongside Iraq’s 9th Division. The army delivered 300 AK-47s the day before, along with several unarmoured trucks to transport the militia. Mortar shells landed nearby and car bombs exploded in the distance. Eager to see their town again, NPU fighters danced and fired into the air.

When they arrived, Jameel, Oussama, Zoher and Amer kissed the ground of Qaraqosh, wearing mismatched uniforms. They could not wait to enter the dusty streets and hunt down Islamic State fighters. The fighting lasted weeks; clearing and demining took months. The question of what would come next soon surfaced. There was no electricity or running water, and the town lay in ruins. American troops removed the last bodies of Islamic State fighters. Civilians returned to survey the damage, filming their homes for relatives who had gone abroad. Hopes of returning for good began to fade.

The NPU took control of the town. Its checkpoints screened people travelling between Mosul and Erbil, while its fighters guarded this strategically contested position in the Nineveh Plain. Excitement gave way to disillusionment. Some said they had lost their faith; others suffered nightmares about the fighting. Many drank cheap whisky from the town’s only liquor shop. Reconstruction was immense, international aid slow to arrive and civilians unsure whether to return. From time to time, the church bell rang for the militiamen. Qaraqosh remained in limbo.

It was not until several months later, in May 2017, that water and electricity returned. Civilians began leaving Erbil to go home and rebuild. Construction trucks moved through the streets as residents scraped and cleaned their houses. Others signed up with NGOs arriving to help restore the town. More than 4,000 families returned to Qaraqosh. Children went back to school, churches filled again and weddings were held. At night, neon lights lit up the main street, where electricians, masons, painters and other tradespeople worked to bring the town back. One liquor seller complained that Daesh had smashed all his bottles, as children laughed in the nearby internet café.

While their security mission continued, NPU fighters also prepared to return to civilian life. One day they wore uniforms; the next, work clothes, as they helped rebuild the town. Evan hoped to have children and move to Australia, giving them a better future far from Iraq. Jameel had left the militia and written a new book. General Benham had moved into his son’s house and worried about the future of his community. Much remained to be done.

Yet Qaraqosh seemed to be rising from the ashes.