Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 26

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

2026-4-19

Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 26

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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Our voices gradually took on a verbal confrontational tone, but Captain "Sabah" immediately intervened and put an end to this commotion. The captain pulled me out of the trench and said: "It's better for you to leave the unit for a mission and distance yourself from them. They worship Saddam and his party, and you cannot remain silent either. I don't think they will let you off so easily."

His reasoning was logical. From that day onward, I participated in numerous missions — or rather, I spent most of my time in exile. They pressured me in every possible way, but I did not give in.

When I wanted to request leave from Captain "Ehsan Heydari," he asked me: "Why don't you request an advance payment?"

I replied: "I don't need an advance." 

He said: "Everyone except you requests an advance payment."

I replied: "I will never extend my hand toward you. If I deserve it, you should give it." His intention was for me to stretch out my hand like a beggar to him and bow my head in return.

My only friend and fellow soldier in those days was Dr. "Ya'qub," who had recently joined us. He was a living example of the oppressed who had endured many hardships and sufferings under Ba'athist rule. Dr. "Ya'qub" was a specialist in obstetrics and gynecology. He had spent thirteen years in Italy: he taught at the University of Trieste and had married an Italian female doctor. They had a daughter together. Dr. Ya'qub had clashed with some Ba'athist students residing in Italy, and they, through various schemes, forced him to return to Iraq.

They even arranged a meeting for him with the Iraqi ambassador, and the embassy promised him that he would teach at the University of Basra and enjoy material and welfare benefits. Dr. Ya'qub believed the promises of those Ba'athists and returned to Iraqi soil to work and serve his compatriots. He left his wife and only infant daughter in Italy and entered Baghdad to prepare a home and essential necessities for them. Upon his arrival in the promised paradise, he was summoned to serve in the army, because he had not served previously. For this reason, they sent him to serve as a conscript doctor. However, since he suffered from weak eyesight and had married a foreign woman, he was classified as non-combatant, meaning he should not serve in active military units or be sent to the front. As he recounted to me, initially he was employed as a general practitioner at the Nasiriyah military hospital. He said that the hospital officials treated him insultingly. Six months after the start of the war, contrary to army regulations, they transferred him to our unit, but the mediation of Dr. "Sabah al-Rabiei" prevailed over the regulations of the Iraqi army, and he was transferred back to his original post—the Nasiriyah hospital. Dr. Sabah had a close relationship with Brigadier General Staff "Salah Qazi," the commander of the Fifth Division. Dr. Ya'qub received a monthly salary of sixty dinars. Because of this, he was unable to bring his wife and child from Italy. He resorted to corresponding with them.

The life story of this exemplary man is indicative of the Ba'athists' disregard for people's lives. After all, what role can an obstetrician and gynecologist have on the front lines? Worse than that, he was also mocked by other officers and soldiers. He spoke to me many times about his troubles. I could see that he was melting away from grief and sorrow. A cigarette never left his lips for a moment. Sometimes I tried to soothe his pains with laughter and jokes; and other times I would reproach and scold him for what he had done, because he had fallen for the Ba'athists' false promises.

Opposite this chapter of the Iraqi nation's suffering, there is another chapter that shows us the extent of cronyism, discrimination, and administrative corruption in Iraq.

Dr. "Ahmed Mofti" was a physician from a bourgeois family; his father was a retired high-ranking officer, and his father-in-law was the personal physician of Saddam's uncle (Khairallah Talfah). Dr. Ahmed was known for his cowardice, taking numerous leaves, and maintaining a very close and intimate relationship with his unit commander. His life revolved around eating and sleeping, and he enjoyed the respect and appreciation of our unit's officials. He lived with us for four months and, through his father-in-law and with the assistance of "Khairallah Talfah," managed to get out of the army and the war. Not only was he discharged from military service, but he was also sent to London for further education. It is true that Saddam had issued a law preventing the release of military personnel until further notice, but this law made exceptions for Dr. Ahmed and those like him who had connections to Saddam's family and his supporters and associates. Otherwise, how could it have been possible for an officer, and a physician at that, to be discharged from military service? This was one of the miracles of Talfah, Saddam's uncle.

Dr. "Ahmed" bid us farewell in late March and, donning civilian clothes, gave away his military uniforms to us as charity. One doctor leaves the front for Baghdad, from where he will head to Europe, while another departs from Europe for Baghdad to set foot on the front lines.

In that dry, barren desert, alongside people whose behavior and demeanor were unbearable to me, I was living a bitter and exhausting life. Day and night, they praised Saddam and his infamous Qadisiyyah, indulging in merrymaking and drinking in their trenches. They tried to stir my ambitious desires, so that I would think of nothing but cars and a few plots of land. They considered possessing such material privileges a source of pride and always looked down on conscript doctors with contempt and hostility. One day, fed up with those fools, I said to the unit commander, who was seated at the breakfast table: "Today I want to share something with you. You express what is in your hearts every day; and today, in return, I want to tell you what is in my heart."

He said, "Go ahead!" — and I wish he hadn't. I told him: "I swear to God, even if I were to spend the night in your army on a bed with a houri until morning and wake up at dawn as a man of wealth and fortune, I would never agree to join the ranks of an army in which there is no trace of freedom."

For a moment, silence prevailed over the gathering, and hearts swelled with anger and resentment, but no one uttered a word. From that day on, they stopped mocking me, but my stance toward them came at a price, the least of which was the restriction of my leaves and my repeated deployment to the front lines. I will never forget the unit commander's behavior on the night of March 21, 1981, when I was suffering from severe diarrhea. The unit's personnel spent that night like the previous nights. The unit commander and his friends stayed up gambling until morning, but the Iranians, celebrating the arrival of Nowrooz, refrained from shelling our forces and only fired illumination rounds. I spent the night in agony and discomfort, constantly going back and forth between the trench and the latrine. Matters got so bad that before dawn, I asked the sentry near the trench for help to go to the latrine. 

On that accursed night, one of the medics injected me with two ampoules of painkillers. The next morning, I was lying weakly on my bed. Dr. Ya'qub went to the unit commander and informed him of my condition. He suggested that I be sent to the hospital for rest and treatment. But the commander objected and said, "Let him stay here and be treated. After all, he is a doctor!"

I was bedridden for two days, treating myself, until, by the will of God, I recovered.       

To be continued …