The night before leaving his parents' home in Wayne, Tex., to join the rebels trying to overthrow President Bashar al-Assad in Syria, Obaida Hitto left a bouquet of white roses for his mother, with a sterling silver locket and a note: "You've made me what I am. But now I need to go and do what I need to do."
Mr. Hitto, 25, a former high school football player, deferred his plans for law school to sneak into Syria to assist the rebels by making videos and spreading information on the Internet to help their cause.
"I'm one of them," Mr. Hitto said proudly during a recent telephone interview.
Since the early days of the uprising, Syrian rebel forces have filled their ranks with army defectors and civilians. But as the war has dragged on, and the government has made it much harder for soldiers to defect, two other groups have contributed to the opposition. There has been a rise in the number of foreign fighters, many of them Islamist extremists. But there has also been a small, though noticeable, number of men like Mr. Hitto, of Syrian descent and with Western passports, who have made the journey to join the Free Syrian Army. Experts estimate they number roughly a hundred and come from the United States, Britain, France and Canada.
Their presence is not enough to shift the tide of the battle, but they add another element of determination and complexity to a bloody landscape where loyalties and ambitions are often unclear.
"Even though he's not fighting on the front lines, I would consider him a foreign fighter," Aaron Y. Zelin, a fellow at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, said of Mr. Hitto. Mr. Zelin keeps a rough tally of foreign fighters in Syria based on news reports and Islamist postings and said the two groups together number in the thousands.
Mr. Hitto, who has extended family in Damascus, has spent five months posting videos and photographs from Deir al-Zour, sometimes very near the fighting, many marked by billowing plumes of thick smoke, the clack of gunfire and narrations that shake with an activist's conviction and anger, delivered in an American accent. "All around us there is shooting," he said in an Aug. 1 clip of a burning building. "The world seems to not care."
Few in Mr. Hitto's position have made the decision to stay as long as he has, especially as residents have fled areas of fighting.
"Eighty-five percent of the civilian population has left the city," Mr. Hitto said in a Skype interview last month from Deir al-Zour. "If people only saw what was really happening to the people here they might do the same thing I did."
The State Department does not keep a count of Americans entering Syria and has discouraged all travel to the country. Those who enter do so illegally; they are smuggled over the border from Turkey by Syrian activists, and huddle with trusted contacts in areas of the country controlled by the Free Syrian Army. Some have gone for brief trips to rebel-controlled areas in the north, providing noncombat assistance. The overland trek across the border, often on foot or under cover of darkness, can be harrowing.
Abdullah Aldahhan, 24, a medical student from Detroit, spent three weeks in the northern province of Idlib this summer, delivering medical supplies to makeshift clinics in a dozen cities for the American aid group Muslims Without Borders.
"That was my first time going into Syria," he said, adding that he slept, traveled and ate with rebels. "We ate mostly cucumbers and tomatoes every single day, whatever they could grow in their backyard."
Those Mr. Aldahhan met in Syria asked why he had wanted to leave his comfortable life in the United States to assist their fight. "I explained to them that this was my country, too," he said in a telephone interview from Detroit, adding that he planned to go back.
Ranya Sabbagh, 39, said she made a weeklong trip to her native Syria in August to the town of Jebel al-Zawiya in Idlib, the hometown of a friend who helped get her into the country. "It's not something I would recommend to others," she said. "I got an hour and a half of sleep at night. I'm from Dallas, I'm not used to hearing gunshots except maybe hunting."
Mr. Hitto, however, seems to stand out for his commitment. Since he left for Syria, his parents, Suzanne and Ghassan Hitto said, they have spent each day searching online for glimpses of him. "I feel like a Vietnam mom, when those first images came from the TV," Ms. Hitto said of the short clips her son has produced with the help of local activists.
"Once we didn't hear from him for eight days," she said. "I looked at every video coming out of Deir al-Zour, looking to see if his face was there among the dead."
Last month, he nearly ended up among them.
Following a pair of rebel fighters looking to pick off government soldiers at a checkpoint, Mr. Hitto said, he climbed high into an abandoned apartment building in a formerly upscale area of the city along the banks of the Euphrates River. Nearby were two tanks, he said.
After climbing to the fourth floor of the building, Mr. Hitto said, one of the rebels, a sniper, found a suitable vantage and shot at the checkpoint, hitting a government soldier. "Then the building started to get hit," Mr. Hitto said. He tried to film from a window on a lower floor, but the bullets began coming in his direction. He turned to flee.
"As soon as I got to the door, the mortar hit the building," he said. Shrapnel ripped across his arm and thigh. At least three pieces lodged in his back. He was taken to a hospital in Istanbul where he is recovering.
Though mostly overshadowed by battles in and around the larger cities of Damascus and Aleppo, Deir al-Zour has been the scene of intense clashes in recent weeks. The area around the city, near the border with Iraq, is believed to be a gateway for supplies to the Assad government, possibly originating in Iran, Syria's main regional ally. The United Nations has accused Iran of supplying the Syrian government with weapons and technical support.
Mr. Hitto arrived in the city in May after his brother-in-law, who has relatives in Deir al-Zour, helped connect him to activists there. He flew to Turkey, crossed into Syria and headed for the front lines in the east. His father, a native of Damascus who came to the United States in 1983, said he remained conflicted about his son's choice, which was made over the family's objections.
"Obaida, bless his heart, he made up his mind," said Ghassan Hitto, describing how the two had argued over going to Syria for months before his son slipped away one weekend when his father was away on a business trip. His son, however, has no regrets and says that once he heals, he will return to the battlefield.
"I will do myself a disservice if I don't go back," he said. "Even though I'm just one person, it's something that I really believe in."
Correction: October 8, 2012, Monday
This article has been revised to reflect the following correction: An earlier version of the picture caption with this article misstated when Obaida Hitto was injured. It was September, not August.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.