Thirsty Sands (Part 8)

2019-8-27

Thirsty Sands (Part 8)

Jafar Rabiei

Design: Ali Vaziri

First published in 1991

Publishing House, Islamic Propagation Organization

Printed at the Aryan

A T.V. that was at the end of the hall just then began to play the Al-Amarah song. The Iraq is called one another to listen to this song. Even those who were outside the hall ran enthusiastically towards the T.V.. Apparently this anthem had special value for them, and the timing of its broadcast was not unrelated to the attack of our forces on the city of Al-Amarah. Our nerves were racked. The captive brother who had given us water said, “Don’t how any reaction; you should get used to these issues, which will be repeated every day and night. Therefore, you should be careful of your deeds and words.”

After the anthem was over, the Iraqis dispersed and each of them murmured something sarcastically.

We left behind that night with all its hardships. It was seven in the morning when the Iraqi came back and took an account of us. After half an hour they made ready ten of our of our friends who had been laid in beds, sent them to a POW camp and placed us on their beds, keeping one who had a command of Arabic, and three others who were in critical conditions. After some minutes a doctor ranking as brigadier general came along, writing a prescription for each of us. I was placed among those who had to be ta ken to the surgery room. After the doctor left, I called our translator and asked him to translate the doctor’s words about myself and he explained all to me contrary to his refusal the previous night. Contrary to the previous nigh t, today he had a very good treatment. As such I asked the reason for this. He said, “Last night the Iraqis were watching asked him for his name. He said he was Mahdi. I asked him where he was me; if I got in war contacts with our brothers, they would not allow me to speak to them. So I was compelled to keep up appearance to win their confidence. I asked him where he was taken captive! He said: Shush-e-Danyal”. And he said that it was during the very operation. I also told him about myself are this was my first acquaintance with an Iranian POW. I asked about the situation of the hospital and Mahdi sad “All the injured prisoners in the latest operation had been brought here and after some days they will be transferred to camps.” I further asked that those transferred from there on that day had not been in good conditions; “why then were they taken to camps? Are there any hospitals there? He (Mahdi) replied: For the Iraqis our health is not important. They only try to prevent the captive from dying and have nothing to do with other problems. Meanwhile, keeping the POWs here would bring exorbitant expenses for them; therefore, at the first opportunity they take them to the camps where they could keep the POWs with a minimum or perhaps no medical expenses.”

Mahdi had gathered this information from the POWs whose conditions had become critical and thus returned from the camp to the hospital. He asked me about the condition of my hands and feet. I said they were all right. Mahdi said, “As they have dressed up your hands, it appears that the scars on your hands are acute.” I said, “I think they only suffer injuries and there is not talk of handicap.”

I went through that night in whatever Way. The next day I was taken to the surgery room. After the surgical operation when I opened my eyes, I found myself in my previous place. In the afternoon of the same day I was transferred to another saloon. There were also some people there whose condition was not so good at all. We were about 15 in all, each with a bed. Here, too, as in the former hospital the doors were closed at 5 P.M. and opened at 8 in the morning of the other day, with a difference that at this saloon there existed toilet facilities. Except for one or two persons no one was able to walk.

On the third day of our admission to the new hospital, the waiter brought us breakfast. He looked at us kindly and sympathetically. Contrary to previous days when we were not served enough food, he gave each of the brothers extra bread and speechlessly and through gestures made us understand that we should conceal the extra loaves of bread so that no one would see. He affectionately caressed the head and face of each of our friends and did the same compared with the other one any time he served food. His moves had become questionable. This continued; that is, any time he brought food, he openly displayed his affection they served us dinner at 4.30 and breakfast at 8 in the morning. This long interval given the lack of sufficient food did not let the friends sleep from extreme hunger and stayed up the night till morning and thus hunger forced them to forget the pain of our wounds. It was at this time when the waiter secretly brought us food and extra loaves of bread saying: “I k now that you r food is not sufficient.”

We all had developed strong feelings of interest in him. Every time he came to us he spoke of Karbala. Najaf, Kazemain and Samera and said, “The Iraqi people are Muslims”. He constantly repeated the names of the Holy Imams. One day, I told Mahdi to ask him, when he came in the reason for his interest in us; as a matter of fat. I doubted and deemed it likely that left behind such a show of love should lay ill-will. In any case, we fulfilled our decision and Mahdi asked the reason for his kind treatment. First he was amazed at Mahdi being able to speak Arabic and asked: “Where are you from?” Mahdi replied, “From Shush, a city in Iran.” “How did you learn Arabic”, he asked? Mahdi explained, “Most of the residents of my city are Arabic-speaking.” Then the waiter cast a clever look around and, after being sure of the absence of his fellow countrymen, said: “You are now at an Iraqi Air Force base hospital called Tamouz”. Here is one of the bases of blasphemy and you should not expect them to be as interested in Islam as you are. Those stationed here are all top agents of the Bath party.”

With the appearance of one of the Iraqi agents our conversation was interrupted. We were engaged in our own business and he also continued with distributing the food. The situation went on like that for some days. The man bringing us food every day briefed us on the latest news of Iran and Iraq. He said of the heavy Iraqi casualties in the preliminary Val-Fajr operations and of the fact that their families were not allowed to perform morning ceremonies for their dead. He spoke of nightly transfers of corpses to the cities, the street fighting in Iraqi cities especially Baghdad, Karbala, and Najaf. He also informed us of the regions liberated by our combatants. I asked...Where have you obtained this information from?” He replied, “I listened to the Arabic broadcasts of Iran’s Radio.” An intense emotional and spiritual bond was created between us. Sometimes he stayed with us so long when giving us our food that it aroused the murmur of the guards. At other times we asked him not to stand by our friends, beds and not to speak with us so much, in a bid to avert the suspicion of the guards, because it was possible that he would be in danger.

To be continued …