The Embankment Wounded Shoulders – 3

Diary of a rescuer

Sabah Piri
Translated to English by M.B. Khoshnevisan

2025-4-20

The Embankment Wounded Shoulders – 3
Diary of a rescuer

Sabah Piri
Translated to English by M.B. Khoshnevisan
Persian Version (1990)
Sooreh Mehr Publications

***

There wasn't much to do in the camp, as we spent our time learning to swim in the river nearby. The number of the wounded in emergency ward fluctuated depending on the movements in Iraq, sometimes there were few and other times many, which left us with little to do.

After a while, I went to Tehran for some time off. When I returned, I was informed that our mission was over and we had to return to the Shahid Boroujerdi camp and settle in. We stayed in this camp for two or three days. During this time, the deputy commander of the medical department, Hajj Mojtaba Askari, had gone to reconnoiter the area.

One Friday night, there was a speech followed by a prayer. The speaker that night was Ebrahim Hemmat, who talked about the martyrdom of several division commanders and the ambush of the Democrats.

When Hajj Mojtaba returned from reconnaissance, he gathered the aid workers and said, "I will take you to an area where you can neither make a phone call nor write a letter. There is only work and more work. Who is ready?

All the guys announced their readiness. Among us were Amir Hossein Ghanbari, Masoud Heydari Vaqar, Reza Asadi, Mahmoud Moghimi - Reza Mohammadzadeh Aghaei - Mozaffari, Mohammad Asadi, and myself.

The place we visited was located beneath Mount Bamoo, known as Sheikh Saleh. It was there that I had the opportunity to get to know Hajj Mojtaba Askari better, who happened to be one of Hamed Motevaselian's students. He would often mention, "You wanted us to be beaten by Hajj Ahmad..."

Upon our arrival, we were provided with a hut where we carried out various tasks. We spent approximately 15 days constructing sheds. During this time, as we were working on the sheds, the person in charge of the group Nosrati approached us and instructed, "Hurry up, prepare water and mud, and pour it on the plates to prevent them from shining." It became evident to us that we were surrounded by hardworking individuals. Despite the scorching heat, ranging from 30 to 40 degrees, and the constant mosquito bites, everyone diligently contributed to the tasks at hand.

Eventually, we successfully completed three emergency wards: Al-Mahdi, Sheikh Saleh, and Azgaleh, each measuring about 18 square meters. These wards were designated for medical purposes and to accommodate doctors. Additionally, there was a well-equipped hospital situated beneath Mount Bamoo, featuring an emergency room with approximately 20 beds, four operating rooms, a recovery room, a pharmacy, and more.

One of the people who put a lot of effort into building this hospital was one of the guys of the combat engineer section of the army. I first heard this person's name from Hajj Mojtaba Askari. Once, when I was a guest in the combat engineer's tent, I saw him praying at midnight. All the guys were saying in one voice that he was leaving this world. I can still see the shining of the tears he was shedding in the mirror of my mind. His name was Piri; the first martyr of Val-Fajr 4.

Until then, I did not know the commander of the hospital. I remember one day we were eating grapes with the children. We were so tired that no one bothered to wash the grapes. We were so tired that everything we had was grapes. No supplies were coming. Because the vehicles were under direct enemy fire during the day.

Someone arrived with an Azeri accent and asked, "Why do you eat unwashed grapes?

The guys responded with laughter, "You're so hygienic, why don't you wash them yourself?"

Without hesitation, the person picked up the box of grapes and carried it to the spring to wash them, despite the distance. Later, I discovered that he was Haj Mohammad Hossein Mamaqani, the commander of the medical ward.

Life remained busy until…

I lost track of how close we were to the front line. The mortars continued to fall regularly, and I never imagined war to be so terrifying. Fear consumed me, as death loomed overhead with its two black wings.

Suddenly, terrifying thoughts rushed into my mind: What if I suddenly died? Anxiety took over my thinking power. The fear of dying had disturbed my mind. I justified myself by saying that I wished I could go back and come again after self-improvement. But I knew that it was the devil who was instigating. Whatever it was, I had never experienced such a predicament before. After all that time spent in the area, I should have thought that one day we would finally participate directly in the war. In fact, that very night, when we were asleep and they came to us to move, I should have known that the operation would begin, the scene would not be as it is created in thoughts and dreams. It was the roar of explosions and blood and a reception with hot shrapnel.

That night, we departed in two hundred buses towards Marivan. Operation Valfajr 4 had commenced on the Marivan front. They tried to keep some of the aid workers, including myself, away from the area. However, after I voiced my concerns to Hajj Mamaqani, he agreed to take us to the operational zone. Before the regional operation could commence near the battlefield, we needed to establish shelters for aid. Within 48 hours, we had set up an emergency room, a landing area for helicopters, a gas station, and...

The individual who was working tirelessly during this time was Farhangifar. He was a forty-year-old man who oversaw Najmeh Hospital in Tehran. His leadership helped resolve many issues. Everything was running smoothly until...

At a quarter to three in the morning, the profound silence was shattered by gunfire. Bullets were raining down from the ground sporadically. Bodies were caught in a deadly dance with shrapnel. The night bore witness to the breaking of silence and the flow of blood without cries or complaints, and I was consumed by the fear of impending battle. The night passed with overwhelming fear and anticipation. Until morning, my mind was a battleground between devilish thoughts and rationality.

In the morning, we prepared to move towards the front line. It was the first time I had witnessed so many mortars raining down. As we approached a crossroads, we encountered heavy gunfire. To the right, the guys had climbed a mountain.

The ambulance couldn't advance any further due to the intense fire; it would surely be targeted. The group leader instructed us to leave the ambulance behind a hill and take cover in the trench ourselves. As we hid the ambulance, a wounded man was brought in. I sat in the back of the ambulance to attend to him.

The car was going so fast on the rough road that it was impossible to help. I really wanted the ambulance to stop so I could dress the injured man!

My head kept hitting the roof of the car, so the best thing to do was to hold the injured man's wound tightly to prevent further bleeding. By nightfall, we had taken about ten injured people to the emergency room and returned. On the second day, the fire was still intense - at this point in the world, humans were undergoing significant changes; the army of Satan was spreading fire on the earth; the body had to be burned to be renewed...

When I returned, the children surrounded me. They thought I had been martyred. But then I realized that they had mistaken me for Piri. He was the first martyr of the third stage of Valfajr-4 in our army.

Three or four days had passed since the operation, and the guys had climbed up the right side of the mountain. The Shiller Heights were collapsing. I sat under the enemy fire tent with one of the ambulance drivers several times and prayed the Ashura pilgrimage, while the fury of the mortars was blazing around us.

When they came and asked for an ambulance, I realized that this time we had to transport the body of the martyr Hajipour. He was the commander of the Ammar Brigade, and I had heard a lot about his courage from the guys. He was riding a motorbike that had been hit. The guys of the Meqdad Battalion were now climbing up the mountain from the minefield. It was a tough battle, with the enemy having more control over the heights. However, the guys’ resistance and combat were truly remarkable.

To be continued ...