The Uprising in Amol

Selected by Fatemeh Beheshty
Translated by Kianoush Borzouei

2025-1-27

On the 6^th of Bahman 1360 (January 26, 1982), one of the most significant political-security events following the victory of the Islamic Revolution occurred. This was the assault on the city of Amol by a faction of the Communist Union of Iran, known as the Sarbedaran or Jangali. Their target was to seize control of the city, particularly attacking the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and Basij bases. However, this disturbance was quelled within two days due to the steadfast resistance of the IRGC and Basij forces, alongside the cooperation of the people of Amol, who united in defense of the revolution and their city. Ultimately, the rebel suffered defeat. Below are the recollections of two narrators.

Narrator: Mr. Babaei

An Impulsive Action

We had gathered in Hosseiniyeh Ershad and contacted the IRGC, who told us to come the following morning. I couldn't bear the wait and decided not to go to the IRGC but instead head downtown to see what was happening. Hassan Babaei, a member of the Islamic Revolution Committee, accompanied me. I had recently been appointed as the head of the Amol Red Crescent Society.

We moved from Niyaki Mahalleh towards Sabzeh Meydan and reached the electricity department. As we advanced toward 17 Shahrivar Square and Imam Khomeini High School, we noticed five or six individuals standing in front of the school. They were inspecting cars. Assuming it was the Basij conducting their usual checkpoint, we approached. A few vehicles were parked near the National Bank, and I recognized the Nissan belonging to Haj Gholamhossein Mansouri, a man who frequently collaborated with the IRGC’s logistics division in Amol.

When it was his turn, Haj Mansouri grew upset because the IRGC and Basij already knew him, making an inspection unnecessary. He handed over his IRGC ID, along with invoices, purchase orders, and other documents. He was still unaware that these individuals were Jangali militants.

Nearby, I noticed a Peykan car with a few passengers inside. They had their hands on their heads, and I assumed the IRGC suspected them of something. The captives recognized us but couldn't signal or shout to warn us.

At about 15 meters away, Haj Mansouri approached his Nissan to turn off the engine and hand over the car. At that moment, the passengers in the Peykan tried to alert him that the group was Jangali. When Mansouri saw us, he asked, “Why did you come here?” I replied, “Why are you standing here?” He responded, “These people are Jangali.”

Immediately, I shouted Allahu Akbar several times at the top of my voice. The insurgents, startled by the takbir, dropped to the ground in fear. Hassan Babaei fired a shot from his pistol and declared that we were from the Revolutionary Committee—still unaware that these were Jangali.

Thinking they were surrounded, the militants opened fire at us with a barrage of bullets. Amid the gunfire, the captives from the Peykan, who had been detained for a long time, managed to escape, though two of them were injured. We also narrowly escaped with our lives. This incident, which became a catalyst for divine intervention to save those captives from execution, remains a unique and sweet memory for me.^[1]

Narrator: Mr. Shokri

Inspiring Bravery of Youth

Our group of four, like most of the city's residents, heard the sound of gunfire. In response to my wife and children’s anxious inquiries about the source of the gunshots, I reassured them, saying, “It’s surely the IRGC uncovering a Monafeqin  safe house and engaging in a pursuit.” This was genuinely what I believed.

The next morning, while heading to my office at the Red Crescent, I crossed Haraz Street and entered Rezvaniyeh neighborhood. In front of the former Asadi residence—a building that once served as a foundation for martyrs and later as a girls' middle school—I noticed several men in Basij attire standing near Asadi’s son. I assumed they were IRGC members, confirming my suspicion about last night’s events, and approached them.

From afar, I mistook one armed individual for Martyr Jan-Nesar, with whom I had previously volunteered. Smiling, I walked toward him. The armed man, who also seemed to think I was an ally, smiled back. As I got closer, I greeted him and said, “Well done, brothers! You’ve surely flushed out those scoundrels taking orders from the East and West and tossed them into the Haraz River!”

The armed man grinned and, in a Kurdish accent, replied, “No, sir! It is this regime that takes orders from America.” Observing their backpacks, their distinct accents, and their clothing, I realized my mistake. After a brief exchange, he said, “The city is under our control, and the people are with us.” I responded, “If the city is in your hands, why is there still gunfire?”

He pointed his rifle at me in a threatening manner and asked where I was heading. I replied, “To my office,” and sought his permission to proceed. He ordered me to turn back. As I walked away, I heard the sound of his rifle being cocked. Reciting the Shahada under my breath, I continued on my way.

Lower down the alley, I reached my office, which was locked. I had the keys with me and began unlocking the door when a hospital worker with a gun approached. At that moment, two IRGC brothers arrived, moving along the riverbank near the electricity department's fences. The three men headed toward the National Bank and the cinema.

Near the office, a young man rushed over, shouting, “Two injured people are lying on the sidewalk to the left of the bank!” I ran toward them, with two 15- or 16-year-old boys following me. Together, we carried one of the injured to 17 Shahrivar Hospital.

What makes this memory stand out in my mind is the incredible courage of those two young boys. Even as gunfire rained down on us, they showed no fear or hesitation. They neither abandoned the wounded nor took a step back. Their bravery was so inspiring that I kissed their foreheads before carrying the injured person, overwhelmed with admiration for their bravery.^[2]