Hammoudi laughs and gurgles as a cooing caregiver picks him up from a crib. It's clear from the attention he is getting that he's the darling of the orphanage.
The 7-month-old baby is dressed in a white jumpsuit. One sleeve hangs empty where he is missing an arm.
Sukaina Ali Younis, the founder of this Mosul orphanage, describes what happened to him as one of the "biggest crimes of ISIS."
"ISIS left him on the ground as bait to lure Iraqi soldiers," she says. "Three soldiers went to rescue the child and a sniper shot and killed them all."
The Iraqi army sent in a tank, but before it could get to the baby, a dog ran up and dragged him away by the arm. When they rescued him, his arm had to be amputated.
The orphanage in a residential neighborhood in Mosul currently holds 18 children under the age of 6, but more than 50 have come into Younis's care. Wooden cribs are lined end to end along bare walls in one of the rooms. A bassinet with white netting holds a baby only a few weeks old. He was left in the street near a police station in Mosul and brought by security forces to the orphanage.
There are some children whose entire families were killed in the war against the self-declared Islamic State — many buried in the rubble of crowded west Mosul when houses collapsed in bombings, airstrikes or mortar attacks.
One little girl was the only survivor when her mother gathered together her and her four brothers and detonated a suicide explosive belt in front of them. The little girl still has shrapnel in her leg. Younis named her Farah — happy. "Maybe after all this she will be happy in her life," she says.
Like the baby Hammoudi, there are others whose parents are unknown.