[1] When I was captured in 1982 during operations in the southern region and transferred to one of the Tehran prisoner-of-war camps, one of the camp officials, known as “Abu Mohammad,” came to see us and asked for information about the burial sites of Iranian martyrs at the front. I volunteered to recount all the information I had, including the burial place of that martyred pilot. Years later, I met an Iranian journalist from the Jomhouri-ye Eslami [Islamic Republic] newspaper named Morteza Sarhangi. He was conducting interviews with prisoners and recording their wartime and frontline memories. I shared my own memories with him, including the story of that pilot. In 1987, two members of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps also came to visit us and sought information regarding the burial sites of Iranian martyrs at the front. I provided them with a set of information—especially concerning that pilot—along with a map of the crash site and detailed notes that I had drawn on a large sheet of paper. Months passed. One day, the camp’s security officer informed me that I would be meeting with some individuals. He gave me their names. I told him, “I don’t recognize any of these people.” He replied, “In any case, you will meet with them.” I became convinced that they were Iranian officials. I said to him, “Perhaps they are my friends who entered Iran under assumed names and as migrants.” In any event, I did not sleep that night and went over whatever memories I still had of my friends and acquaintances. The next morning, I put on my best clothes, perfumed myself, and went to the POW camp infirmary—where I carried out my daily duties—and sat waiting impatiently for the meeting. At 9:00 a.m., Brother Mirzaian, the camp’s security officer, appeared with a cheerful expression and said, “Your visitors have arrived.” Together we went to his office. Along the way, he informed me that they were two Iranian men who had come because of the information I had provided to the Revolutionary Guards months earlier about the martyred pilot. He added, “They seem anxious and find it hard to believe that a prisoner of war could inform them about the fate of their son.” Moments later, I entered the security officer’s office and saw two middle-aged men sitting across from me. I greeted them and shook hands with them. The first appeared to be about fifty years old and introduced himself as the father of the martyred, missing pilot. Signs of faith and dignity were evident in his face. He said that he was the principal of a high school. The second man appeared to be about forty years old. He was an Air Force colonel and the brother-in-law of the missing pilot. The pilot’s father began by saying, “Based on the information you provided to the Revolutionary Guards about a martyred pilot, they searched the area and found the body of a pilot. I have been told that, according to your information, that body is my son’s, but I have not yet received his remains. I want to hear the story from you directly so that my heart may be at ease and the pain, sorrow, and anxiety I have carried in my heart for years may finally be relieved.” I recounted the incident in all its details. As soon as I finished speaking, the father cried out, “He is my son!” and broke down in tears. Everyone in the room was deeply affected. He bent down to kiss my hand, but I quickly withdrew it. I offered him my condolences on his son’s martyrdom. Wiping tears from his eyes, the man thanked me sincerely and said, “I am happy that my son attained martyrdom.” I took my leave and returned to the POW camp, all the while cursing Saddam and his patrons, who were responsible for so much killing and destruction.