The Embankment Wounded Shoulders – 5

Diary of a Rescuer

Sabah Piri
Translated to English by M.B. Khoshnevisan

2025-5-4

The Embankment Wounded Shoulders – 5
Diary of a Rescuer

Sabah Piri
Translated to English by M.B. Khoshnevisan
Persian Version (1990)
Sooreh Mehr Publications

***

I returned to Tehran to retake my examinations. I began studying diligently, and two months later, I attempted and successfully passed the exams - the same three retakes I had previously failed.

It was during the Khaibar Operation that Jalil Zokaee went missing. The rescuer, a clergy who also prayed at night, did not neglect the Ahd supplication of Imam Zaman after the morning prayer.

My friends were leaving one by one, so I had to leave too. It wasn't possible to stay in Tehran and receive flight updates. On 7^th of Tir 1363 (June 28, 1984), I moved to Dokooheh. I attempted to join the demolition crew, but they did not accept my help. I then visited the health unit where Mowlaee was stationed. I was very happy to spend two or three days with them until the Komeil Battalion in Shalamcheh needed a rescuer. I wasn't chosen until the Ansar-e Rasul Battalion requested a rescuer, and that's when I went. I found myself in a place where the intense heat was overwhelming.

We arrived in Susangerd at 12pm with the Ansar Battalion. There was a three-way road that led to Bostan, and we had to continue the way on foot, and after about 5 kilometers, we ran out of canteen water. I had water with me in a canteen full of crushed ice. By now, the ice had melted and the water had warmed up, but it was still a relief for our blistering lips. We walked for about ten kilometers, and among the group, there were two people who had no water. I wanted to share some of my water with them, but the commander ordered that no one was allowed to give water to another.

Suddenly, one of the guys accidentally fired a bullet that hit under my foot. I wanted to complain, but he showed under my foot.

I also poured the canteen water. We had to practice the power and endurance. For the morning prayer when the lips were dried up and burned, they brought a mobile water tank and gave the guys water.

We prayed between the road to Susangerd and Bostan, then continued moving. It was still morning, but the heat quickly dissipated the coolness of the early hours. We traveled five kilometers to the right and arrived at a river that flowed under the trees near the tents. We had finally reached our destination.

Life began in the scorching heat above 55 degrees. I started my job as a rescuer. Even though the operation had not yet begun and we had no wounded, we had several people who had been bitten by scorpions and snakes. In addition to the dangers of the night, we also had to contend with scorpions, snakes, and other insects during the day.

The weather was so warm that the guys jumped in the river immediately after the noon and evening prayers. The Hamza (AS) Battalion was the neighbor of our battalion. The commander of Hamza's guys was Pazuki. A man who didn’t have one hand. I don't know in which operation his hand was cut off. Although they were moving earlier than us, they had arrived later. They had come from Ahvaz to Bostan for three nights and three days. Ninety kilometers walking in the ruthless and scorching plain of the south.

The river had murky water, so opaque that you couldn't see even a palm's length into it. It was said that the Iraqi corpses were in the water. It was a hard and dangerous life. One day, while I was at my post, one of the guys unexpectedly fired a bullet at my feet. Before I could protest, he pointed beneath me where a large, deadly snake was dying. Another time, as I slept in a tent, a furry tarantula dropped right in front of my face with a sickening thud, only to be swiftly killed by the guys.

It was sincerity and faith that kept the guys going. My whole body was aching and burning. During this time, they held a large maneuver. Every night, two battalions operated. The exercises were done regularly and under pressure. An operation was supposed to take place, but later they realized that the enemy had found out, so the operation was not carried out. They sent all the battalions on leave. We came to Tehran again!

After a week of leave, I set off again for Dokooheh. Our commander had changed; Jafar Mohtasham had replaced Akbari.

This time, all the battalions of the division were together as we departed from the railway sports ground. Initially planned to go to Bostan, our destination changed to Khorramshahr. Twenty-five kilometers from Khorramshahr was a desert designated for the battalion to settle.

An operation was scheduled for Shalamcheh, but it was leaked, and consequently, not carried out. I returned to Dokooheh where I was present for Ashura and Tasua. Shortly after, I was granted another ten days of leave and ten days of incentive. Additionally, I received two round-trip tickets from Tehran to Mashhad. I took one of the guys with me to visit Mashhad.

I had come to Tehran to study when I was informed that the army needed reinforcements. Upon reaching the Dokooheh, we discovered that no one was there. The guys had gone to the Sar Pol-e Zahab, leaving only Hajj Mamaqani and Amir Hossein Qanbari behind. We proceeded west with them towards the Abuzar garrison, which was surrounded by high mountains. Arriving at the garrison at night, we found it to be a vast complex that housed various facilities such as a sports club, a bathhouse, a Husseiniyeh, a hospital, and other necessities.

From the garrison, we headed back to the place where we used to build our sheds, that is, to the same vineyard in Sheikh Saleh where we used to eat the grapes sitting down.

A year had passed, and the guys were no longer around. They had all passed away. After staying for two or three days, a few of us were given a mission to go to the location where the Peshmerga were planning their operations. I was chosen to be part of that group. Our task was to provide relief work for the Peshmerga in that area, located under the giant mountain of Bamoo.

One night, we crossed a large bridge under Bamoo and made our way towards the Azgaleh hills. We set up camp under one of the hills, where three groups of Peshmerga were stationed. On our right side, we saw the soldiers of the Hamza Battalion. I also had a close encounter with Hajj Hemmat in the emergency room. His index finger was injured, and we had to remove his nail.

Their task was to prevent the infiltration of Komeleh and the Democrats in a relatively sensitive area. We were situated between the hills of Mount Bamoo, with the heights of Shakh-e Shemiran and Shakh-e Soormer to the right. Mount Bamoo itself was divided into two parts, known among the group as Big Bamoo and Little Bamoo, where the Democrats were known to be active. Since the area was in a defensive position, there wasn't much for us to do. The area experienced hot days and cold nights. After idling there for five days, it was becoming boring. Feeling restless, I contacted the hospital on the wireless and suggested that if there was no urgent need for us there, we should return. They agreed, and we made our way back to the Abuzar Garrison.

There were sports competitions happening in the garrison, and I was also participating in training. I returned to Tehran to study for a few days but came back early. One day at the garrison, I noticed that my hand was injured, so I went to the hospital where they diagnosed it as leishmaniosis. Later, I found out that many of the guys I was with in Bostan had also been affected by leishmaniosis. I returned to the garrison for treatment of my hand, and a person approached me, looking into my eyes intently. It seemed like he was trying to remember where he had seen me before. Finally, unable to contain his curiosity, he asked: "Haven't I seen you somewhere?" I replied, "I'm not sure." He then asked, "Weren't you in Operation Valfajr-4?"

I just found out who he was: he worked in a dentist's office. His name was Behzad Ghiyassi, and he was a prodigy. He invited me to his room, which was on the second floor of the hospital. The room was clean, carpeted, and had all the amenities. However, he himself was unhappy. He expressed his desire to join the 27th Division, saying, "I am very comfortable here. I have an office downstairs, but I don't like comfort. I want to go there to share the suffering and hardships with the guys."

I just found out who he was: he worked in a dentist's office. His name was Behzad Ghiyassi, and he was a prodigy. He invited me to his room, which was on the second floor of the hospital. The room was clean, carpeted, and had all the amenities. However, he himself was unhappy; he wanted to join the 27th Division. He said, "I am very comfortable here, I have an office downstairs, but I don't like comfort. I want to go there to share the suffering and hardships with the guys."

I promised that I would talk to Hajj Mojtaba Asgari. Two or three days later, when Haji and I were going to Hosseiniyeh, I told him about the matter. At first, he refused, but with my insistence, he said, "Let's see what I can do."

It was after the prayer that I suddenly saw Ghiyassi and introduced him to Haji. Haji objected again when I saw Ghiyassi crying, as he really wanted to be with the Basij guys. Finally, Haji agreed to let him do his job, and three days later he entered the 27th Division medical unit.

In the morning, I saw Ghiyassi join our ranks and Haji, who rarely appointed deputies, made Ghiyassi the deputy of the medical unit after a week.