The only image he had of his birth mother was the one that haunted his dreams.

In it his mother's distorted body lay lifeless on the ground – seemingly one of the many victims of war-torn El Salvador.

Almost 35 years later, after a lifetime spent in Canberra, Mr Zamora's saw his mother again when he returned to the homeland he was forced to abandon so long ago.

German Zamora's family looks on as his embraces his birth mother Milagro del Pilar Martinez again after believing she was dead for 35 years.

Salvadorians Blanca Guillermina Zamora and Oscar de Jesús Zamora adopted Mr Zamora in 1981 when he was five-years old believing his parents had been killed in the country's violent civil war.

Together with four of his six adoptive siblings the family left El Salvador in 1988 and moved to Canberra to escape political persecution.

Throughout his life Mr Zamora was convinced he could remember the moment he was separated from his birth mother and siblings, but his new family dismissed the frightening flashbacks as nightmares.

"I always felt like I didn't belong… when I had questions I felt like I didn't know who to go to," he recalls.

"As time went by I kept wanting to know more, whether I was right or wrong or whether it was just a nightmare."

In the dreams he remembered an explosion before he and his mother fled their home running through tall grass before reaching a clearing.

A second explosion knocked Mr Zamora unconscious - the shrapnel scars are still visible on his face.

When he came to, he remembered seeing his mother lying on the ground and boots running towards him, but he couldn't remember who he was.

After his adoptive parents died, and with the night terrors of his youth continuing into adulthood, his adoptive family and wife Vanessa encouraged him to find out the truth about his past.

German holds a photo of his grandmother Maria. Photo: Melissa Adams.

More than 75,000 civilians were killed in El Salvador's 12-year civil war between 1979 and 1992.

Forced adoptions were common with the new families told the children were orphans.

In 2005 his then sister-in-law, Lara Pullin, contacted Asociación Pro-Búsqueda - a Salvadoran human rights organisation that aims to find out what happened to the children that disappeared during the conflict.

And so began a journey to an unimaginable family reunion that spanned two continents and more than 10 years of waiting and searching.

Unbeknownst to Mr Zamora and his family, his birth mother Milagro del Pilar Martinez was alive.

She was also searching for him and his lost sister Marisol through Pro-Búsqueda from her remote home near the village of Linares in the municipality of de San Agustín in the Salvadorian department of Usulután.

"Milagro means miracle… and it definitely is," Mr Zamora says.

Mrs Martinez had recounted the moment she lost her two children in a video interview with the organisation.

In it she recalled fleeing into the hills with her children.

"We fell into an ambush set by the armed forces, they trapped us," she said.

"They shot at us and they chased us until they caught us and took our children away."

After 10 years, countless emails, and at least one supposed match that turned out to be false, the organisation eventually sent a lengthy document recounting Mrs Martinez's stories.

It came at a time when Mr Zamora had all but given up hope and handed over responsibility for the search to his brother Oscar.

When he received confirmation Mrs Martinez's DNA was 90 per cent likely to match his own Mr Zamora finally allowed his emotions to take hold.

"That moment alone was joy and I don't know what else," Mr Zamora recalls.

He immediately wanted to visit his home country but it took a year of organising and working around the clock in his timber flooring business to make it possible.

"At the end of the day I said 'I have to go and see my mother and give her a hug'," he says.

Even organising a meeting over Skype proved to be difficult, with– an investigator from Pro Búsqueda having to take his mother to San Salvador from her impoverished home for internet access.

It was an emotional prelude of what was to come.

His adoptive sister and brother-in law Lissette and Jorge Perez and their children Rodrigo and Oscar travelled from Canberra with Mr Zamora's wife Vanessa and sons Isaiah, Javier, and Elias for the reunion in San Salvador in January.

But despite the support nothing could prepare him for meeting so many family members at once.

"Pro-Búsqueda said there's going to be a lot of people," he recalls.

"When I arrived, I thought 'no worries, I'll manage' but walking down I saw so many people, I think there was about 100 people there and they told me that 90 per cent were literally my family.

"I had all these things to say but it was to a point where I had nothing, it was quite overwhelming."

Meeting his elderly grandmother Maria Estevana Martinez was especially emotional after Mr Zamora found out the body he remembered lying in the field was her not his mother and miraculously she too had survived the ambush and was still alive at the age of 87.

"When she dropped me she tried to pick me back up but she just didn't have the strength because she was a tiny little thing," he says.

"She lived all her life thinking I was dead and she felt the blame.

"When she found out that I was alive she sent a message saying she couldn't wait to cradle me again, to hold me in her arms again… she used to say I was her favourite."

The week after the family returned to Australia Mrs Martinez died.

"I thank God for giving me the opportunity to at least give her one more hug and for her to go knowing that it's OK," he says.

Sitting down with his mother and finding out the truth of the family's escape was an emotional release, but it was bittersweet knowing his nightmares were real.

"I remember saying to myself 'wow I knew I wasn't crazy'," he says.

"It was a good moment for me to know it wasn't a lie after all, [but] I wish it would have been because it was tragic what I remember."

He was told his sister had sadly gone missing in the attack when his grandfather Perfecto Funez Inglez, who was carrying her at the time, was captured by the soldiers.

"Mum is still battling that, trying to find any leads," Mr Zamora says.

"It's definitely given me a bit of closure… [but] it's a journey still."

Tragically his birth father Salvador Arnoldo Urbina was murdered soon after the couple lost their children.

The details of Mr Zamora's adoption remain sketchy, but it's believed he was to be handed over to the Red Cross before a soldier intervened and took him to an army base where he was given the name Aguila Diez meaning 'eagle ten' and eventually taken to the home of his adoptive family who were told he was an orphan.

During his visit to El Salvador he found out his birth name was Nicolas Arnoldo Martinez.

While Mr Zamora says he loves his adoptive siblings, he admits it was a tough environment growing up in Canberra with an adoptive mother who had experienced trauma in El Salvador herself.

She died 12 years ago and his adoptive father Oscar de Jesús Zamora, who was a barrister, criminal lawyer and dean at El Salvador National University before moving to Australia, died in 1992.

"I was grateful I had two mothers, unfortunately one is gone but the other one is still here," Mr Zamora says.

Despite the miraculous reunion, the journey is far from over for the family.

The fate of Mr Zamora's sister is still unknown and while he and his wife and children live a happy life in Canberra he can't help but think about his mother's living conditions in El Salvador.