The 371st Night of Memory – 3

Compiled by: Iranian Oral History Website
Translated by Fazel Shirzad

2025-10-27

Note: Note: The 371st Night of Memory was held on August 28, 2025, at the Sooreh Hall of the Arts Centers. In this program, Ahmad Saqafi, Mohammadreza Golshani, and Vahid Faraji shared their memories. Davood Salehi hosted the session.

The second part of the 371st Night of Memory began with the host explaining the unique structure of this session. He mentioned that the program was divided into two segments: one focused on freedom fighters (former POWs) and the other on a relatively new and lesser-known topic — the “Twelve-Day War Memories.” He noted that this theme would be inspiring and engaging for the younger generation who did not experience the years of the Sacred Defense firsthand. “Sometimes,” he said, “a short but intense battle encapsulates the entire meaning of resistance.” He emphasized that the beauty of such recollections lies in their diversity of perspectives and referred to the previous Night of Memory, held three months earlier on the night of the ceasefire, where various narratives together created a new understanding of endurance and unity.

The third narrator, Vahid Faraji, was then introduced. Born in February 1980, Faraji is a documentary filmmaker who, in his youth, studied under the late Nader Talebzadeh and began his filmmaking journey with the Revayat-e Fath (Narration of Victory) group. Later, for his university project on “the social lifestyle of the Lebanese people,” he traveled to Lebanon at his own expense—a trip that became a turning point in both his professional and spiritual life, leading to close connections with the Resistance Front and the production of several influential documentaries about Lebanon. He even had meetings with Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, though on this occasion, he intended to narrate the “Twelve-Day War” through the lens of his camera.

At the beginning of his talk, Faraji said: “On Wednesday night—48 hours before the war began—based on the movements in the region, I was certain that war was imminent. I even posted a story on social media saying, ‘We are approaching war.’ But an older friend called me and said, ‘That’s propaganda; it will just cause panic,’ so I deleted it. That night around 9 p.m., I felt uneasy and went to bed earlier than usual. Around 2:30 a.m., I suddenly woke up to a heavy sound. From my past experience in Lebanon, I knew it was the sound of a diving aircraft or missile, and sure enough, an explosion followed. Then came a series of consecutive blasts. I took my wife and kids to the living room, which faced the alley, but—like many Iranians—I grabbed my phone and went up to the rooftop. The first video I recorded there was at 3:31 a.m. In that deep silence, only the sound of explosions echoed.”

“I couldn’t stay home. I told my wife: ‘I’ve traveled to Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon to make films about wars; now that the war has reached our own home, I have to do something.’ During the first two days, before we got official permission to film, my friends and I worked on archival material. For example, I suggested we make a video using the nostalgic opening of Revayat-e Fath combined with footage of today’s armed forces, to evoke the spirit of the Iran–Iraq war era. From the second or third day onward, we went straight into the heart of events, shooting without permission at first, then with it, and eventually produced about ten short films under the title ‘From the Heart of Iran’.”

“One of the strangest experiences was filming the night scenes of the war from the top of Milad Tower. The attack began on Friday night, and by Saturday night, we arranged with a friend to stay up there with a small crew—taking blankets, quilts, and some pizzas. At first, the guards were shocked and said, ‘Are you serious?’ But with the tower director’s approval, we went up. The wind was fierce. From that height and darkness, we saw the fuel tanks at the Tehran refinery in Shahran explode. From another side, we watched glowing missile trails being fired from the west of Tehran toward Israel—clearly visible all the way to their destination. We stayed there until dawn; it was an eerie and thrilling experience.”

“What stayed with me forever, though, was the night a bomb leveled a three-story building on Patrice Lumumba Street. Around 3:12 a.m., a flash of orange light appeared, followed by a massive explosion. Eleven people were martyred in total. Among them were a father and his 13-year-old son; only the boy’s lower body was found, and the upper half was never recovered. That scene still pains me deeply.”

Faraji then spoke about the concept of ‘Destiny’ (Taqdir), sharing several real examples:
“In this war, I witnessed different manifestations of destiny. One case involved an employee from the Chamber of Commerce. It was noon, and he was riding his motorcycle home when two missiles hit a building just 40–50 meters away. A fragment struck his right leg, severing it completely. Had he been just a second earlier or later, his fate would’ve changed.

Another case was on the third day of the war, near Palestine Cinema. A powerful explosion brought down a false ceiling. I grabbed my backpack and phone and saw a man lying in the street, his leg severed. Again, I thought: if he had been one second ahead or behind, his destiny would’ve been different.

A few days after the war, I visited the Martyrs’ Morgue (Me’raj al-Shohada) and met a man whose wife and daughter had been killed. He told me that on the night of the attack, he was at his father-in-law’s house (who was the deputy of the late Martyr Fakhrizadeh). But since he had an exam to study for, he went home—and thus was spared. These experiences gave me a deep understanding of how ‘what is destined for you will surely occur.’”

“In the 33-Day War in Lebanon, I had seen how the Israelis precisely targeted apartments of journalists sympathetic to Hezbollah. I believe this wasn’t human espionage but technological tracking—through cell phones and social networks. That’s why during the Twelve-Day War, we were extremely cautious about sharing any location data online. But what truly comforted me was witnessing the anonymous heroism of so many people—members of the armed forces, firefighters, the Red Crescent, and nuclear scientists—who worked in total obscurity, aware of the risks but expecting no recognition. Many of our nuclear scientists live in complete secrecy today to avoid being targeted.”

“The most important realization,” he concluded, “was that during this war, we understood we are one family. The enemy doesn’t care whether you wear a hijab or not, whether you’re Muslim or not—they target everyone. We must preserve this sacred unity that was born in those days. Our country was on the brink of great danger; if, God forbid, the leaders’ meeting had been hit, Iran’s destiny would have changed entirely. Much of the peace we enjoy today is the result of the sleepless nights and sacrifices of people whose names may never be known. We owe them our gratitude.”