It's August 14, 1982 in Beirut, the capital of Lebanon, seven years into a civil war in the country.

Dust whips across a deserted street, while a team of international red crossworkers

hurries through the ruins of the city.

Leading the way is a 71-year-old Catholic nun, Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

Her white sari is famous around the world, but right now it's making the red crossworkers

nervous.

Catching the morning sun, the bright Sari could make her an easy

target for snipers. For the last two months, Beirut has been besieged by Israeli forces

intervening in the Lebanese civil war and the city's inhabitants have paid a heavy price.

Hundreds have been killed and wounded. Water and food supplies are now running low, and disease is spreading rapidly.

This humanitarian crisis had become so bad that Mother Teresa felt compelled to leave her work with the poor in India and travel to Lebanon to help.

The Red Cross team arrives at a half-destroyed hospital. Its upper windows are blown out, its walls are parked with bullet holes.

It looks deserted, but its front doors are locked, and they can hear noises from inside.

So the Red Cross team forces its way in.

The scene on the other side stops the worker short, though.

In the hospital's wrecked foyer, dozens of children sit huddled together, their eyes wide with fear.

At once, Mother Teresa gets to work.

She moves from child to child, checking their injuries, offering what comfort she can.

She gives each child a smile and a hug.

She hands out food, and through interpreters, she assures each of them that they are going to be okay.

Over the next few hours, Mother Teresa's team will evacuate all the children they find alive in this shell-damaged hospital.

Scenes like this one have come to define Mother Teresa, a nun who has spent decades caring

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