Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 15

By Mojtaba al-Hosseini
Translated into Farsi by: Mohammad Hossein Zavar Kabeh
Translated into English by: M.B. Khoshnevisan

2026-2-1

Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 15

By Mojtaba al-Hosseini
Translated into Farsi by: Mohammad Hossein Zavar Kabeh
Translated into English by: M.B. Khoshnevisan

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Of course. Here is the translation from Persian to American English, rendered in a formal, analytical tone suitable for a historical or political context.

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Joffeir Aid Center

In late October 1980, Mobile Medical Unit Eleven was divided into two sections. The administrative section remained in the village of Neshveh under the command of the unit commander, Captain Ehsan al-Heidari—who had recently been transferred to the unit from Al-Rashid Military Hospital—while the technical section, together with medical and relief personnel and their equipment, was deployed in the Jofeir area inside Iranian territory. There, it established an advanced aid center along with a wounded-evacuation headquarters. Joffeir was a crossroads leading to the operational axis of the Fifth Division south of Ahvaz and the operational axis of the 9th Armored Division in the Hoveyzeh and Soosangerd area. Its medical supply lines were transferred from the “Sheib” area in Al-Amarah to the villages of Nashweh and Joffeir.

Some Khuzestani families were living in a number of the village houses. Homes that were unoccupied had been requisitioned by members of the unit. We set up an aid center and a wounded-evacuation headquarters. This center received the wounded and the sick from all operational areas. The number of wounded—who were mostly injured as a result of enemy artillery attacks—was lower than the number of ordinary patients. Many Khuzestani families fell ill, and we treated them. Our only problem was the children’s need for pediatric medications, which we did not have. In addition, we lacked vaccines against contagious diseases. Truly, the pitiful condition of these people would break any human heart. Worse than all was the fact that some of them lived in Iraq and others in Iran, while Iraqi forces looted the property of both sides.

A few days later, new arrivals came. They were a group of truck drivers from a transport company who brought ammunition and supplies to the front. These drivers, who were Egyptian nationals, chose one of the abandoned houses as their place of residence. The large trucks effectively became mobile ammunition depots. Every day, smaller trucks arrived to load and transport the ammunition needed by the units.

One day, Iranian fighter jets bombed the area, and several head of livestock, along with their shepherd, were injured. The poor shepherd was treated and transferred to Basra, but his animals were attacked by our soldiers and the Egyptians and divided among them. Seeing this scene wounded our hearts. Toward evening, the Egyptians displayed lavish generosity and, in the manner of rulers, roasted the sheep over an open fire. The soldiers, like hungry wolves, slaughtered the sheep, ripped open their bellies, and took out only the livers to eat. The rest of the meat was distributed among the stray dogs of the area. People like me, in keeping with the Iraqi proverb “the eye sees, but the hand is short” (meaning one is powerless to act), had no choice but to remain silent, because the Egyptians were considered sons of the Arab nation and brothers of Saddam Hussein, and our soldiers were the so-called “heroes of Qadesiyyah” and descendants of Sa‘d and Khaled.[1] In those circumstances, the Baathists had forgotten Arab identity and the defense of the Arabs of Iran.

At ten o’clock the next morning, I was sitting in the room designated for doctors when suddenly a tremendous explosion shook everything. I rushed outside in alarm. It was a horrifying scene. What had happened was that two Iranian fighter jets bombed the ammunition trucks while Iraqi soldiers and Egyptians were busy unloading the cargo. During the bombardment, three ammunition trucks exploded and caught fire, and the Egyptians were slaughtered like the sheep of the previous day. Moments later, they were brought to the emergency room, drenched in blood. They were screaming from the intensity of their pain. I looked at them and said to myself: This is their punishment in this world. God knows what punishment they will deserve in the Hereafter. In any case, they were treated and then transferred to Basra.

After a number of Egyptians were killed or wounded, an order was issued regarding the use of their presence not inside Iranian territory but within Iraqi territory, for the purpose of supporting Iraqi forces. One week after this air attack, the Khuzestani families and the remaining Egyptians left the village, leaving us alone in that dreadful area where there was not even a trace of potable water. There were three brackish-water wells there, surrounded by small tamarisk trees. In that place, we suffered from isolation and a monotonous life compounded by a lack of essential facilities, such as bathing. Worst of all were the Iranian air attacks, which continued without pause. There was also no sign of support units. It was possible that the Iranian army might at any moment deploy forces in the area and launch an operation. After a short while, military units gradually established their support headquarters around us, and this gave us some peace of mind. Nevertheless, we were still fearful of the specter of a landing of forces in that important and strategic area. Nearly all the neighboring units felt the same way.

One night, I fired a random shot into the air, and following that, the unit’s personnel and other neighboring units opened fire with full intensity, to the point that the sky was enveloped in a halo of light and fear and anxiety seized every heart—except mine, since I was involved in what had happened. This mad gunfire lasted for several minutes, and after everyone was convinced that no forces had landed there, it gave way to the previous silence. This incident caused a serious problem for me. That day, the deputy brigade commander contacted us and asked about the matter. Captain Jabbar told him, “Only a few shots were fired unintentionally, and there was nothing else to it.”

The deputy brigade commander said, “We and the frontline forces became worried. We thought troops had been landed in your area and behind us.”

A few days after this incident, it became clear that the commanders and soldiers had been severely frightened. This in itself revealed the weakness of our forces’ combat morale at that point in time.

[1] Saʿd ibn Abi Waqqas and Khaled ibn al-Walid.