The 372nd Night of Memories – Part 1

Compiled by: Iranian Oral History Website
Translated by Fazel Shirzad

2025-12-1

At the beginning of October, coinciding with Sacred Defense Week, the 372nd Night of Memories was held on September 25, 2025, in the Sooreh Hall of Arts Center. The host opened the program with a warm welcome, reminding the audience that for more than thirty-three years, this gathering has kept the flame of remembrance of the warriors and martyrs alive at the beginning of every month. In this session, Haj Hossein Sadeghi Siroo’i, Hassan Naji-Rad, and Seyed Morteza Azarhoushang shared their memories. Also, on the sidelines of the ceremony, the book Hossein Garda’i, written by Mohammad-Hadi Zargari, was unveiled. The evening’s program was hosted by Davood Salehi.

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The host introduced the first narrator as follows: Born in August 1955 in a village in Siroo of Kahak, Qom Province, in a farming family. At the age of seventeen, he went to Tehran to work in a Laundromat, but destiny took him in 1973 to the Imperial Guard Infantry Division. After the Revolution, he left the Guard, served for a while in the Committee, then joined the IRGC, though his friends still know him by the nickname “Hossein Garda’i.” A few days after the war began, he was captured and spent 10 years in Iraqi camps. Later he became active in Hajj and Pilgrimage affairs, and today he is here as a veteran of the Sacred Defense to recount a glimpse of those turbulent days.

The first narrator of the program, Haj Hossein Sadeghi Siroo’i, began his remarks as follows:

“I am a villager, the son of a farmer. The memories of my childhood are still alive in my mind, but the turning point of my life was entering the Imperial Guard. I served in the Eshratabad garrison, which later became Vali-Asr (pbuh) Garrison. When the Revolution began, I distanced myself from the Guard and joined the people. I worked for a while in the Committee, then entered the IRGC. Because of my military background, I served as an assistant instructor during training and then received various responsibilities. After some time, we were deployed to Kurdistan with Haj Ahmad Motevaselian, Martyr Gholamali Pichak, and several others. First we went to Mahabad, then to Baneh, where we confronted counterrevolutionary forces. Baneh had fallen into the hands of the Munafiqin (MEK) and the Fedayeen guerrillas, and alongside Martyr Asghar Vesali and the ‘Red-Headband Unit,’ we moved in to liberate the city.

“In the following days we were assigned to clear the Baneh–Sardasht road. Around that same time, I also had a mission in Tehran to track down some former Guard personnel who had participated in the massacre of September 8 (Black Friday). My efforts led to the arrest of several individuals, including Captain Naderi, who had ordered the shooting. We arrested him in Babolsar and handed him over to Martyr Kachouyi in Evin Prison.

“A few days later, we were given a new mission: move toward the western front. From Kermanshah to Qasr-e Shirin and Naftshahr, we went wherever the enemy had penetrated. In Naftshahr I saw that our oil resources had been targeted. Our forces were trying to respond to the enemy’s positions with mortars but were unsuccessful. I asked them to let me try. I placed the mortar on my shoulder, moved a bit back, set the angle, and fired. Moments later, flames rose from the enemy positions. Right there I felt with all my heart that it was not us who were firing, but God Himself—an embodiment of the Qur’an verse: ‘[O Prophet] it was not you who threw [dirt and stones at their faces], but Allah did! And Allah wanted to test the believers with a good thing.’[1]

The narrator continued: “Two months before the official start of the war, our border clashes with Iraq had intensified. On September 22, 1980, I saw enemy aircraft flying over Naftshahr. Moments later, the bombing of Kermanshah and then Tehran began. That was the start of the war.

“We had only a few old tanks and two artillery pieces. Our manpower was small, equipment insufficient, but faith and zeal were overflowing. On September 24, the Iraqis attacked the customs checkpoint. We resisted with thirty–forty IRGC and Basij forces who had come from Gilan-e Gharb and Tehran. Among them was a newly arrived young man named Hossein Allah-Karam, experiencing his first day at the front.

“The enemy tanks approached within 700 meters. Our only effective weapon was a 120-mm mortar. We placed it under a tree, and I aligned the barrel with the tanks. The first round fell short, but the second struck the middle tank directly, triggering a massive explosion. Again I felt: ‘It is not we who strike; it is God who strikes.’ With sixty consecutive shots, the tanks were either destroyed or forced to retreat. That day we stood firm, but that night the enemy attacked from another direction. After several days of resistance, we were surrounded in the Kaneh pass, and captivity began.

The narrator continued: “I spent 10 years of my life in Iraqi camps—the hardest years, yet filled with lessons and dignity. I learned that captivity is not the end of the battle; it is another arena for defending honor. In this path, no one guided us like Haj Abutorabi. He was the savior of the prisoners. At first we didn’t know how to resist the Iraqis and tried face-to-face confrontation, but after meeting Haj Agha and learning his methods, everything changed. He was a father to all the captives. I loved him as much as my own father—perhaps even more. Some prisoners who before captivity were not practicing, or were just ordinary soldiers, were guided to the right path through his spirit and conduct. His constant motto to us was: ‘Be pure and serve.’ This moral and intellectual leadership was our greatest support during those difficult years.

“In the Ramadi camp, I was in charge of the kitchen. It was there that several female captives were brought in so the Iraqis could use them for propaganda. One of them was Mrs. Masoumeh Abad. We wanted to bring them some tea to comfort them, but they refused, saying: ‘If you bring tea for all the prisoners, we will drink it; otherwise we won’t.’ Right there I realized the strength of these women. The Iraqis never succeeded in exploiting them for propaganda.

“In the camp, the radio and news were like life itself. Keeping a radio was very difficult, but the female captives hid it and relayed the news to us. Later, when a group of teenage prisoners were transferred to Ramadi, each had memorized and written down parts of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic. On cement-paper and with hidden pencils, we copied those articles and kept the spirit of law and faith alive inside the camp.

“The enemy tried repeatedly to extract confessions and obtain propaganda material from us, but failed. Once, when an Iraqi major insulted some young captives, the entire camp went on strike. The strike began in Room 24 of Ramadi and spread to the whole camp. No matter how much they pressured us, we did not give in. In those barbed-wire cages, we often thought about returning home. I even dreamed of it, but I never imagined people would welcome us so warmly. Yet they showered us with their kindness. During those ten years, my wife raised our children despite all difficulties. I even wrote to her that she was free to start a new life if she wished, but she answered with unparalleled loyalty.

He continued: “Finally the day of return arrived. After a period of rest, at the invitation of Commanders Dehghan and Ansari, I joined the Aerospace Force of the IRGC. My mission was to train commanders of various levels within the force. We held several courses for commanders and instructors, and these trainings became established within the Aerospace Force. My honor was working closely with many great martyrs of this field, such as Martyr Haj Hassan Tehrani-Moqaddam and Martyr Haj Amir-Ali Hajizadeh. Many of them were either my students or colleagues. May God bless them—those who brought honor and reputation to our country in the field of missile technology.

He concluded: “I can still hear the call to prayer of Ramadi in my ears, and the smell of the Iraqis’ gray bread is still in my memory. But alongside all those hardships, one feeling always remains alive: that God was with us throughout the journey. From the day the mortar left my shoulder to the moment I stepped beyond the barbed wire, everywhere I looked, I saw His hand. And now, in this Night of Memories, I only want to say that the war did not end for us—only its form changed. From the trenches of Naftshahr to the complex missile bases, and from Iraqi camps to today’s gathering, what remained was faith and loyalty to the path that the martyrs—from Haj Ahmad Motevaselian and Gholamali Pichak to Tehrani-Moqaddam and Hajizadeh—opened with their blood.”

To be continued…