365th Night of Memory – 3

Compiled by: Leila Rostami
Translated by: M.B. Khoshnevisan

2025-2-18

The 365^th show of Night of Memory entitled "Waiting" was held in Andisheh Hall of the Art Center of the Islamic Revolution on the 4^th of Bahman 1403 (January 23, 2025). Several combatants of the Martyrdom Battalion of "The 27^th Division of Mohammad Rasoullollah (SAWA)" narrated their memoirs.  The wives and mothers of the martyrs attended the show. Mr. Ahmad Karimi, Mrs. Maryam Rahimi (the wife of martyr Ali Asghar Abdolhossein Zadeh), Dr. Mohammad Bolookat and Saeed Lavasani recounted their memoirs during the show. The mother of martyr Mohammad Javad Haj Abolqassem Sarraf (Javad Sarraf) a commander of the Martyrdom Battalion was also honored in this show. Davood Salehi hosted the show.
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The third narrator of the program, Mohammad Bolookat, born in 1349 (1970), was in charge of the Recruitment Department in the Shahadat (martyrdom) Battalion. The duty of the department was to record the combatants' details, including their names and surnames, responsibilities, license plate numbers, and status. During operations, the significance of the Recruitment Department to determine the status of the combatants increased. Usually, the number of people inside the recruitment tent was 4-5 people, but on operation nights, it could increase to 7-8 people.
The narrator began his speech by saying: In early Shahrivar of 1365 (August 1986), I was sixteen years old and was in the recruitment section of the Zolfaqar Brigade in Koozran. One day, an old Jeep stopped in front of the recruitment tent. Martyr brother Noorollahi was in charge of the personnel section of the Zolfaqar Brigade, said: "You are going to join the Martyrdom Battalion." It was very unexpected and surprising. We went to the recruitment section of the division by a Jeep. At that time, the Martyrdom Battalion was defending Qalavizan after the Karbala 1 Operation. The battalion commander was Mustafa Abdolreza. We were in Koozran for a few hours, then we drove to Mehran in the same jeep with the brothers Abdolreza and Qali and joined the battalion's guys. I was in the battalion until the Karbala 8 Operation and the end of Esfand 1365 (February 1987). I was in charge of recruiting in the Martyrdom Battalion for a total of 6 months. Then I went to the Ammar Battalion and remained in that battalion until the end of the war.
There were three influential people in the battalion's morale; one was martyr Javad Sarraf. He was a little different from the role models they tell young people now; a little hot-tempered and angry. He had spoken harshly to me several times about my mistakes or the expectations they had, but overall I felt like he was my older brother.
There were 3 to 4 of us inside the recruitment tent. Naturally, the combat guys of the units would go to the morning prayer after the morning parade ceremony. Anyway, we were teenagers and a little lazy and sleepy. After the prayer, we would return to the tent and tie the tent door from top to bottom and go to sleep. We did not participate in the morning ceremony. A day or two passed when Agha Javad [Sarraf] noticed that we were not participating in the morning ceremony. He would come in from under the tent, crawling, and finally wake us up and forcefully take us to the morning prayer. This happened many times, but we would not give up and he continued to do this.
Once, when I had just returned from vacation, my mother had brought me a large box of pickles. I put the box of pickles at the end of the tent. Mr. Javad came and said, “What is this?!” I said, “Pickles.” He opened the door and ate a little of it and said, “It’s very delicious, I’ll take this pickle.” And in this way he punished me.
The second person who has influenced me to this day, and I always remember him and think he was definitely the best person I have ever met in my entire life, was martyr Hamid Kermanshahi. He was very good-tempered, kind, polite and very brave.
In the midst of Operation Karbala 5, on the same night that Iraq had launched a very heavy attack and cut off the fort; that is, it was targeting the guys from the side and behind the fort, in Mahi Canal, there was a volume of fire on the guys’  heads, behind us was a very narrow strip of water and in front of us was the Iraqis in sight. There was a fort about 7 meters by the water, and when we moved around, we naturally got excited and scared; because someone was running, someone was injured, someone had been martyred, someone wanted ammunition, someone said, "Bring me a rocket," for a moment I saw Hamid Kermanshahi calmly, confidently, without raising his voice or even running, as if he was walking in the living room of his house. I always think about this image that from where this calmness and confidence came! It was something beyond courage.
The narrator continued by sharing a memory about martyr Ali Asghar Abdolhossein Zadeh and said: Although I was in the recruitment section, until half an hour ago, I didn't know that he was married! In the recruitment tent and among ourselves, we called him "Ali Asghar of the Heart" because he had a special mood. Every time I saw him, he would whisper to himself. Most of his whispers were verses and laments that were being sung at that time. I remember it was late at night and I was brushing my teeth or performing ablution next to a water tanker in the middle of Karkheh. Since it was dark, Ali Asghar didn't notice my presence. He was whispering and waving his hand and shedding tears. Then I realized that he was whispering a lament to himself in Azeri. When he got closer, he saw me. Because I was in the recruitment section, almost everyone knew me by name and face.
Most of the people I was in contact with, called me “Brother Mohammad.” He said, “Have you stood here?” I said, “Yes, I was watching you.” He used a word, now I don’t know if it’s appropriate to say it here or not! But since we’re going to tell a story, I’ll say it. He leaned his head closer to me and said, “Brother Mohammad! I’m a shameless villain.” Villain doesn’t mean that we know in common parlance that he’s a bad-mouth or a knife-wielder. It means that I don’t know any formalities. For example, if you saw me whispering to myself and crying in the middle of the night, maybe a sane person wouldn’t do something like that.
Regarding the recruitment notebook, the narrator said: After each operation, we were required to write down the details of all the battalion's forces in a small pocket notebook. By doing this, we could record all the situations that happened to each and every loved one during the operation; for example, who was martyred, injured, or missing, and report this to the battalion command or the groups that were with us so that they could make a decision. Because there was a possibility of many people being injured, we had to prepare a large number of notebooks. For the Operation Karbala 6, we prepared six copies of this notebook with the help of our friends. Each person had one of these notebooks. I had put that notebook in my trouser pocket when we entered the operation.
Before the operation, one of our tasks was to go into the different units and companies and have dinner with them, have a chat, get to know everyone by name and face, and become friends. If during the operation we saw someone lying down, we would go and see if they were one of our guys! If they were, we would write down their name, or if someone told us that someone was wounded or martyred, we would immediately enter their name in the notebook. During that operation, I was hit by shrapnel, but my legs were undamaged. Next to me was my brother Davood Mandegar, who had been shot twice in the stomach. We had to carry him. It was nearly two kilometers from the Shahadat crossroads to where we were, behind the fortress. The ground was also muddy.
Martyr Hassan Rahimi – he was not martyred in that operation and was martyred later – was hit by shrapnel in the shoulder, but his legs were not damaged. He told me, “What has happened?” I said, "My hand has been hit by shrapnel." He said, "Well, our legs are fine. Let's put Davood on our back and carry him to the Shahadat crossroads so the ambulance can take him." I said, "Okay, but I'm here..." He said, "Don't worry about Hamid Kermanshahi, I'll tell him. You put Davood on your back and go." My left hand wasn't working very well, but I threw him on my back with my right hand. Of course, I wasn't very strong at 16, but I carried him 15 meters in the mud anyway. Then, Hassan also carried him a little until we reached the Shahadat crossroads.
The Shahadat Crossroads was two to three times the size of the stage here, and it was full of wounded. Because the road was in sight of the Iraqis and they were targeting it, the ambulance could not come. The number of wounded was also increasing. About 200-300 people had been martyred and a number were wounded. We left Davood there too. I wanted to go back. Hassan said again, "No, there is no one to take out the wounded from here. Come on, at least you, who are healthier than the others, let's help put them on these cars that are coming." The cars that were coming were turning around very fast. We were throwing the wounded behind the car while the car was moving. After I threw Davood inside the car, Hassan himself got in. I was running after the car when Hassan pulled me and said, "Let's go."
Anyway, we went to Aqabeh by boat and they bandaged my hands, and finally I couldn’t go back to the operation. This notebook stayed with me. They took us to a hospital in Qom. We were there for a few days, then they brought us to Tehran, but the notebook was still with me. When I returned, I had a closet where I put the notebook, and fortunately, after 38 years, this notebook is still there. There are about 450 names in this notebook, each of which is marked wounded or martyred. Martyr Hassan Rahimi put his face under my ear very calmly and said, “Javad Sarraf has been martyred.” I didn’t know, because Javad Sarraf was one of the first martyrs of the battalion. That is, when we reached the Shahadat Crossroads, apparently a mortar hit the ground and he was martyred. Then, Hajj Akbar Abtahi, the deputy commander of the battalion, continued to command.

To be continued...