The Embankment Wounded Shoulders – 8

Diary of a Rescuer

Sabah Piri
Translated to English by M.B. Khoshnevisan

2025-5-25

The Embankment Wounded Shoulders – 8
Diary of a Rescuer

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

***

When the jet fighters arrived and began bombing one after another, it was no longer safe to stay. The guys turned back and took shelter behind the first fort, about ten meters away from the water. Some men ahead continued to resist, but eventually they too retreated as the situation grew more critical with each passing moment. The planes continued to bomb relentlessly. Sadly, several of my friends were killed, including "Saeed Rashidi," our battalion's assistant doctor, and "Malmir," who was in charge of the Hijrat company. A company from the Hamzeh battalion was surrounded in the front, with many of my other friends in that company. The fort's low level made it vulnerable to direct shots from machine guns, as our heaviest weapons were mortars and RPGs.

The men fought with all their might as numerous tanks and jet fighters bombarded them one after another. Members of the Zulfiqar and Kumail battalions arrived with a "Malyutka" anti-tank missile. One of the soldiers, known as "Red Beard," displayed great skill with the "Malyutka" and successfully targeted around 35 tanks. However, despite their efforts, the tanks kept coming, with more appearing each time one was destroyed.

The tanks were closing in, so the men each grabbed a grenade and waited for the tanks to come within range. The Iraqi radio broadcasted a message, urging the soldiers to surrender as they were surrounded. Division commander Abbas Karimi responded firmly, "No! No surrender!"

All the men wanted the same thing, the wounded did not moan but silently suffered pain, and several martyrs lay on the ground. Those who remained were contemplating resistance. This field bore witness to the last warriors escaping captivity and making their way to the tanks, so that one day a grandmother could weave a myth from their heroic deeds for her grandchildren. The guys waited with grenades in hand for the tanks to approach the clay target, fists and grenades becoming one as the warriors gazed at the horizon, unaffected by the number of tanks. A deadly anticipation gripped the world as they embraced death, the sky growing impatient and something bursting above. The clouds rolled in, bringing rain to muddle the earth and halt the tanks. The day was already coming to a close, and night was descending upon the world. On the opposing side, the iron giants were engaged in battle against the mud and rain. But on this side, the men prayed beneath the gentle touch of the rain, feeling the hand of God upon the heads of the brave men and the hand of the devil upon the heads of the little men.

At night, the Maysam battalion retreated easily, the Ammar battalion also arrived, and the Ammar battalion commander was wounded, but he was still active. In the middle of the night, the Maysam battalion attacked the enemy from the left and the Ammar battalion from the right, and after striking, they retreated again. We were dressing the wounded, I bandaged about a hundred people and went to rest for a while. In the morning, the work of caring for the wounded began again, the pier was under the direct fire of Goryunov machine gun, and boats were coming with supplies, and the wounded were retreating less often, because their number had become too large in that encircled area. I remember praying the morning prayer while dressing one of the wounded, and I spent the night with the wounded until morning.

The following day, at around noon, a horrific explosion accompanied by a strange sound echoed from the pier. A mortar had struck directly in the center of the ammunition pile that the guys of the Ammar Battalion had assembled there that morning, resulting in one of the guys being blown to pieces. The Iraqi fire intensified once more. The injured were carried in and positioned at the edge of the pier, where we had to treat them under enemy fire. Some of the rescuers objected, questioning why we should risk going there. They argued that the wounded were already there, and if we went, we would likely get injured as well, rendering our efforts futile.

We were leaving and had to go because that's why we became rescuers. I saw a wounded man sitting in the corner of the fort. I asked him how he was, but he didn't answer.

When I insisted, he shyly said that the shrapnel had hit his thigh and he couldn’t move. I immediately set to work, placing a lot of bandages between the shrapnel and his leg. He was then taken back on a stretcher. At times, we could feel the howl and sting of the bullet as it passed by our faces.

Until nightfall - of course, the night had also disappeared due to the light of the signal flares - we treated the wounded. The next day, the enemy launched a fierce attack. They had sent tanks and were slowly advancing. When they reached a distance of about forty meters, the guys wanted to retreat, but the Komail battalion appeared in boats. They went forward and both sides of the enemy took positions. The battle between tanks and RPGs began. The tanks were firing, the wounded were being carried back, and it was futile to continue fighting in the intense heat.

One of the wounded was brought by a rescuer named Hosseini. As he went to help the wounded, I also went to assist Hosseini. While helping him, a bullet passed by my hand and entered Hosseini's hand, disabling it. He could no longer work, and I did not have a splint among my supplies to dress his wound. I improvised by tying his hand with the ramrod of a gun, and he was taken back by boat.

Now I was left alone with the wounded who were being brought, so I went behind the fort where Komail’s guys were.

They said that a paramedic was needed up front. Some of the wounded were my friends. Ajorloo – the rescuer – had a torn back and was bleeding. Madanipour – the assistant physician of Komail’s battalion – was wounded. We sent everyone back. I was busy treating the wounded until nightfall. When night fell, I went to get water. Suddenly, a mortar exploded two or three meters away. I didn’t understand how I fell to the ground. When I tried to get up, I saw that I couldn’t. The guys came and I was taken to the aid post on a stretcher. My legs were injured and my back was in severe pain. There I saw Ghiyassi, and Haj Mameqani also came. I told Haji that the guys needed a rescuer, and Haji quickly ordered a few paramedics to be sent over the wireless. After a while of rest, they took me to the army emergency room.

Suddenly, a mortar exploded only two or three meters away. I couldn't comprehend how I ended up on the ground. As I attempted to stand, I realized I was unable to do so.

There, after taking two or three shots, I went to Hajj Mojtaba Asgari's bunker and slept for two days. After a while, one day I saw "Khanim" - the Pazouki courier, the commander of the Hamzeh Battalion - there. He was one of the guys of the Hamzeh Battalion who had gone to the Tigris, but when they realized that they were not being supported, they turned back and were surrounded by several tanks on the way. Khanim had cleverly escaped and was saved. When I asked Amir Hossein Qanbari, he said: "I have not seen him and most likely he was martyred. This was the first closest comrade who was martyred."

The enemy had bombed the area with chemicals, causing an unpleasant smell to permeate the area.

 After the operation calmed down, the guys held their positions. I returned to Juffair and encountered Mehdi Givehchi. I then traveled to Dokooheh where I received news of Abbas Karimi's martyrdom. During this operation, known as Badr, an aid post was established for the first time. This initiative, proposed by Haj Mameqani, involved building a post on water using two floating bridges amidst the reeds.

A few days later, another operation was scheduled to take place in the area, but it was canceled due to a leak. The guys were supposed to take a 5-day leave and then return promptly.There were approximately 1,700 of us who were supposed to fly to Tehran, and the plane arrived. They herded the children onto the plane without assigned seats, like sheep. The heat and the deafening noise of the engines made several of the children feel unwell. The plane was unable to take off, so the guys had to disembark once again. We had been waiting for the plane at the "Vahdati" base from morning until afternoon, and now that it had finally arrived, it was in this condition. The guys were wholeheartedly embracing the idea of looking after the Basijis. It hadn't been long since their comrades had made sacrifices and become martyrs, so they felt it was only right to welcome them in this manner. Thanks to the efforts of our brother "Dastavareh", we were able to reach Tehran and...

To be continued …