Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 17

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

2026-2-15

Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 17

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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Soldier doctors took turns going from the aid center to the "P" Headquarters of the 20th Brigade, so that they could play a part in providing medical assistance. They did not go there voluntarily; nevertheless, they enjoyed both material and spiritual benefits. When we argued with them, they would boast about the achievements of the Ba’athists and pretend to be patriotic, self-sacrificing, and devoted.

In late November 1980, I set out for the "P" headquarters of the 20th Brigade for the second time. When I entered the headquarters, I felt that it had retreated somewhat, because the Iranian forces had diverted the flow of water toward this position in order to prevent the city of Ahvaz from falling into Iraqi hands. There, I saw the fortified bunkers of the officers, noncommissioned officers, and soldiers. These bunkers had been built from iron beams, thick wooden railway sleepers from the Ahvaz–Khorramshahr rail line, as well as electricity poles from around the road and railway, and stones and tiles stolen from the Hamid garrison. By constructing these strong bunkers, our forces were protected from heavy artillery shelling, air attacks, and the enemy’s counterattacks. However, as time passed, these bunkers turned into a graveyard for our forces. Every day, three times—during the times of prayer—we were given the chance to breathe fresh air and relieve ourselves.  Life in bunkers surrounded by death and terror had very negative psychological effects on the morale of military personnel at different ranks. For this reason, everyone tried to befriend me so that, if they were wounded, they could be treated in the best possible way or gain access to sedatives. In fact, the presence of a doctor in those conditions could calm anxious hearts. I was always with them under heavy gunfire and lived in the same bunker. Captain “Hassan,” the political guidance officer responsible for strengthening the forces’ morale, needed morale more than anyone else. As soon as he heard the sound of artillery or mortar explosions, he would hide. His bunker was full of food supplies and clothing that were supposed to be distributed as gifts among the soldiers, but he would give them to whomever he wished, without regard for the established rules.

During those same days, the army command decided to give fifty dinars as a reward to every wounded soldier and noncommissioned officer, and one hundred dinars to wounded officers. Interestingly, one of the anti-tank soldiers would hide inside the bunker and, during artillery attacks, put his legs outside the shelter. He had two goals in doing this: first, to receive the fifty dinars if he were wounded, and second, to use his injury as an excuse to escape from the front for several months. You can now imagine the fighting spirit of the other forces.

Although my relations with the other officers were very limited, Captain “Hussein al-Awadi” once invited me to dinner.

When I went to his bunker, I encountered Captain “Hazem,” the engineering company commander, First Lieutenant “Adel,” and two other officers. After dinner and tea, they opened a bag, took out several colored magazines, and handed one of them to me. When I flipped through it, I saw that it was a Swedish pornographic magazine. I became very upset.

I recited the well-known verse, “Cursed is man; how ungrateful he is” [1], and angrily said: “What kind of state are you in? Does any of you know whether you will be alive until tomorrow? At any moment you may be killed. How will you stand in the presence of God on the Day of Judgment?”

They remained silent and lowered their heads. It seemed they had not expected such a reaction from me, because this matter was considered something ordinary and trivial among officers and doctors. I left the bunker without saying goodbye, and from then on, I never felt any desire to meet them again. Such was the condition of the commanders. Let us pass over it!

The Iranians did not limit themselves to heavy shelling and nighttime air attacks against the front lines; through ambushes and patrol-combat missions, they also struck rapid blows against our rear positions and lines of communication. They usually crossed the Karun River and, after traveling a distance of about six to eight kilometers, reached the strategic Ahvaz–Khorramshahr Road. There, by setting up ambushes, they attacked supply convoys.

One day, an Iranian combat group carried out an infiltration operation against the position of the heavy artillery of the third battery of Battalion 36. After destroying a truck carrying ammunition and leaving behind a Honda motorcycle, they returned safely to their bases. Although this operation was not very large, it caused fear and panic among the forces.

I remember that day the plain, despite all its vastness, felt suffocatingly narrow to us, and the artillery fire turned every part of the ground into heaps of dust, to the point that the brigade headquarters and the positions of the 1st Regiment were unable to make any movement. During the inspection of the area, an Iranian first lieutenant from an artillery unit and his deputy, who had been hiding inside the wreckage of one of the destroyed trucks—near the paved road and a few kilometers behind our forces—were identified. They had been observing our movements and directing fire toward our positions.

After being discovered, they were surrounded by our patrol company, but they did not surrender and fought until the brink of martyrdom. Our forces were only able to transfer their ammunition to the brigade headquarters.

I spent 35 eventful days at the brigade headquarters, and then I returned to the field medical unit. After returning, I was able to get a seven-day leave and, away from the scenes of death and the narrow, dark bunkers, rest at home.

[1] Chapter 'Abasa, Verse 17.