A memory from Shahrivar 17, 1357 (September 8, 1978)

A fragment from the memoirs of First Lieutenant Mohammad Mohtashamipour

Selected by: Faezeh Sassanikhah
Translated by Mandana Karimi

2025-9-19

At 3 a.m. on the seventeenth of Shahrivar 1357 (September 8, 1978), the orderlies came after me and delivered the “standby” order. In my twelve years of service, this was the first time I had ever been put on standby at this hour of the night. I thought to myself: God help us!

When I arrived at the barracks, I realized they had put the unit on standby to enforce martial law. The radio repeatedly announced that martial law had been declared in Mashhad and eleven other cities. I thought: Oh God! Martial law! Does that mean from tomorrow no more than three people are allowed to gather on the streets? What will these ruthless and ignorant men of God do to the people? Is it possible that the people’s uprising will be suppressed with this plan?

My body felt weak and my mouth was dry. I heard one of my comrades complaining to the orderly soldier about why he had woken him up at that hour of the night! Another said the orderly soldier had kept ringing the doorbell of a house and didn’t stop until the homeowner hurried to the door.

The sound of vehicles and tanks moving out of the barracks and entering the streets at that hour terrified me even more. Inside the barracks, I had no one to consult. I had a strange headache. I lay down on the sanitarium bed and sought refuge in God. By 10 a.m., many units of the division had moved into the city. A soldier, a non-commissioned radio operator and me stayed in the barracks and maintained communications between the battalion and the group supporting Police Station 6 and Brigade 3. We tried to tune into the frequencies of other units or the division commander to know what was happening in the city, although most of the communications were in code.

Around 3 or 4 p.m., the commander of one of the infantry battalions persistently insisted and obtained permission from General Jafari (the division commander) to open fire. After about an hour of insistence over the radio, he finally forced General Jafari to give the order to fire. At that moment, gunshots were suddenly heard in several parts of the city. We all started crying out of distress. Later, through radio communication, news was received about the martyrdom of a motorcyclist who was going from Moghadam intersection toward the gas station, and the deaths of several others, including two women at the Ab Square, were reported to the division commander. He was so upset that he repeated several times: “Two women?! You killed two women?!”

News came in about the massacre at Tehran’s Jaleh Square and other cities. The alert was at one hundred percent and no one was allowed to leave the barracks, but I had to find a way to contact Mr. Fazeli outside the barracks to receive Imam’s assertions and updates about the situation. He also kept in touch with other comrades and group members. By God’s help, I had an idea and managed to leave the barracks to buy items like yogurt, soda, etc., for the officers and petty officers and go to Mr. Fazeli’s shop near the barracks’ gate. Twice a day, I went to Mr. Fazeli’s shop. At night, we distributed the leaflets inside the barracks through Second Sergeant Baharvand and some comrades and soldier brothers. After a while, it became clear that besides us, a few others were doing the same. Cutting the flagpole rope and rumors circulating inside the barracks, and most importantly, staying several consecutive days in the barracks, had completely broken everyone’s morale. They were forced to allow some staff personnel to go home every night.

Our job during those days was mostly raising awareness among the personnel inside the barracks. We would sit with those we felt were open-minded and clarify the facts to them. This method was very effective. For those who could not be guided, we found their exact home addresses and then directly or indirectly told them that their names and addresses were on the blacklist posted in front of Ayatollah Shirazi’s house or Imam Reza Hospital! Or we said someone had inquired about their home address! In this way, we terrified them so much that they did not dare to leave the barracks even armed. One of them was very hot-headed and eager to go with the patrol group and shoot at the people. I said to him: “So-and-so! Is your home address on such-and-such street, corner of the alley, brick building with a red door?”

He said: “Why?”

I said: “You know I have no enmity with you. But I’m advising you as a friend to be careful. I saw your address in the city on the door of one of the clerics.”

That poor guy, who was having tea, couldn’t finish his glass and became weak. He couldn’t even drink water until the next day and stayed awake all night. He kept pleading with me and others: “What should I do? Help me!”

To avoid trouble and keep our cover, I told him: “Dear friend, don’t be impatient!”

He asked: “What should I do?”

I said: “Do you have any relatives, friends, or acquaintances who have contact with the homes of these clerics?”

He thought a moment and said: “Yes! I have a relative, but I don’t think he would believe me.”

I said: “In any case, the only way is to go and get a ‘safe conduct’ through him and keep it with you.” The next night, he went to Ayatollah Mar’ashi’s house, and both, with tears and pleas, got a note from him.

Source: Ramin Nezhad, Ramin, Akas-e Lashkar-e Khorasan (Photographer of the Khorasan division, the life and memoires of Mohammad Mohtashami pour), Kamyab Publishing co. 2018 Pp. 52.