The Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War - 45

By Mujtaba Al-Husseini
Translated From Arabic by: Muhammad Hussein Zavar-Kaaba
Machine Translation edited by Mandana Karimi

2026-8-30

The Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War - 45

By Mujtaba Al-Husseini

Translated From Arabic by: Muhammad Hussein Zavar-Kaaba

Machine Translation edited by Mandana Karimi

***

After leaving behind that hot and scorching summer, we entered the threshold of winter in November. With the change in temperature, we spent most of our time inside the trenches to protect ourselves from the constant rain and possible battles.

We completely covered the roof of our positions and trenches with dirt and stone blocks, making them very strong places. I covered the inner wall of the trench with nylon and put a wooden door in it so that it became like a normal room. I hung a lantern inside the trench that we used when we slept. I also used a battery-operated lamp for reading and as a night light.

Our regiment lived in complete peace from August to late November, especially after the arrival of Lieutenant Colonel Abdul Karim. Until on November 18, 1981, we received the bad news of the transfer of the regiment commander. Lieutenant Colonel of the Staff "Abdul Karim" left our regiment as the operations officer for the headquarters of the 5th Field Division. I lost someone who understood me and was always my friend and helper.

When saying goodbye, the commander wished me and the others good health and well-being. Then he told me: "If there is a problem or any need, contact me at the division headquarters!"

For him, this transfer was a release from the burden of responsibility and the achievement of a more important position. In any case, we wished him success and saw him off with tears in our eyes. A short time later, Lieutenant Colonel of the Staff "Meqdar Jum’eh Ahmad" arrived at the headquarters in his place and assumed the responsibility of the commander. He had previously served as the deputy head of the Baghdad garrison, whose headquarters is located in the "Harithiya" neighborhood. But fate took him from Baghdad, safe and sound, to Khuzestan, a place of disaster and death. Together with the regimental adjutant, we set out to get to know him. At first, I found him to be a calm, tolerant, and gentle person. He was from Ramadi province and served in an armored unit during the Northern War. This was the first time he had stepped foot on the front during the war. In subsequent meetings, it became clear that he was a religious and faithful person and had also succeeded in performing Hajj. The characteristics and moral character of this officer somewhat reduced the suffering of being away from Lieutenant Colonel Abdul Karim.

The month of November was gradually approaching its last days, and we were counting the days until we could take our regular leave on November 30, 1981. On the evening of November 29, I prepared our travel gear. As the weather got dark, a light rain began to fall accompanied by a pleasant breeze. Around midnight, I was listening to radio programs when the doorbell rang. I asked, “Who are you?”

He said, “It’s me, Ibrahim.”

I said, “Come in!”

Ibrahim, the deputy medical officer, entered with a toothbrush in his hand. I asked, “What’s up?”

He said, “Doctor! I think Iranian forces have attacked the Susangerd area.”

I pulled my coat over my head and we went out together. The breeze was blowing and the rain was still falling softly. The bullets fired towards Susangerd illuminated the area, and the sound of artillery and tanks was deafening. I told my friend, “Most likely, a large-scale attack has begun.”

He asked, “How?”

I said, “Our brigade’s location has been quiet for two weeks; and the Iranians usually direct their artillery from all fronts to the place they intend to attack.” Then I said, “Ibrahim! Go to sleep. "God willing, no danger threatens us."

I returned to the trench and lay down on my bed. It wasn’t long before the Iranian forces in front of us opened fire on us with all their weapons. To find out what was going on, I called the deputy regiment commander. He said, “It’s nothing. They just want to keep us busy.”

I was sure that what had happened west of Susangerd was an attack by Iranian forces, not a regular combat operation. In fact, by carrying out this fire, the Iranian forces intended to prevent the Iraqi forces stationed in Susangerd from being helped.

Half an hour later, the shelling stopped and I went to sleep. The next morning, using a short-wave radio, I heard calls from Iraqi forces via a wireless device. I realized that the attack had begun and that the Iraqi forces were in a very bad situation.

At 8 a.m., I heard the news of the attack and the liberation of the city of Bostan along with 72 villages on Radio Tehran. I took this news as a good omen and said to myself: Thank God.  is the second victory of the Islamic forces in two months. As usual, I went to have breakfast with the deputy commander at 9 o’clock. He also announced the initial results of the attack and told me that the Iranians had captured the city of Bostan and its surroundings, and that the battle was now underway around Hur and West Dehlavieh. The deputy commander added that our forces had suffered heavy losses and that the Iranians were in control of the initiative. I asked him: “How is our situation?”

He replied: “Our situation is completely normal. The commander signs the leave papers.”

I said to myself: Thank God that despite this attack we will go on leave. I returned to the mobile medical unit. I could not contain myself with joy. I followed the news on the radio until noon. At 2 o’clock I went to the deputy commander’s bunker to have lunch and hand over the leave papers to the mobile medical unit staff. I saw a group of officers waiting to receive their leave papers. We had lunch together. Meanwhile, the telephone rang. The deputy picked up the phone and said, “Yes, sir. Obedience, sir.”

I hung up the phone and asked, “What’s up?”

He said, “It was the brigade operations officer!”

Everyone’s eyes widened and their breaths caught in their chests. The deputy continued, “The commander has ordered us to postpone the leave until further notice.”

Everyone sighed. I said, “Thank God. You too, pray that it’s just a matter of suspending the leave and nothing more.”

Everyone asked, “Will we take part in the battle?”

I told them, “That doesn’t seem very unlikely.”

They said, “We are in a defensive position and are not a strike force.”

It was as if they had convinced themselves with this excuse. Ten minutes passed. The people present had not yet fully recovered when the telephone rang again. This time the call was also coming from the brigade's operations room. A deadly silence reigned. The deputy took up his pen and wrote down what the other party dictated to him. Every now and then he would say, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

The deputy said that a confidential and urgent telegram had arrived and that the company had been ordered to mobilize and prepare to fight quickly. I left the deputy’s bunker and returned to the mobile medical unit with this ominous news. I summoned Lieutenant Colonel “Mohammad Salim” and ordered him to prepare the mobile unit for movement and to abandon the heavy and unnecessary equipment. Within an hour, we had packed our equipment and waited for the order to move. Hours passed, but what hours! Hours of waiting; waiting to meet death and destruction, waiting for an unknown fate.

The darkness of the night spread its shadow everywhere, but there was still no news of a new order. We spent that night in the worst possible mental condition. On the morning of January 1, 1981, we were ready. At noon, a regiment from the 109th Infantry Brigade arrived to establish itself in our regiment's positions. By 4 p.m., an exchange of positions and an explanation of the situation in the area for the new regiment took place. The mobile medical unit was waiting for the order to move; until at 4 p.m. that same day, the order to move was given. The regiment traveled along the road leading to the Juffair area, but no one except the regiment commander - who pretended not to know the reality of the situation - knew what fate we would face. The commander had known for three nights that we would be sent to the Bostan area to participate in that inevitable battle.

Our regiment was divided into several convoys and set off. An ambulance was moving behind each convoy. I took my ambulance behind the convoy of the regiment headquarters, which included the commander and his deputies. After reaching Juffair, we took the paved road that led to the city of Huweyzeh. The convoys moved at a moderate speed until they entered the west of Huweyzeh and from there they continued their way westward along a highway.

I saw the city of Huweyzeh and the high spire of the mosque in the middle of the city and the simple houses that surrounded it and stretched along the banks of the Karkheh River from a distance. A sense of sadness and sorrow filled my entire being. We continued our journey westward, parallel to the Karkheh River. At about 5:30 in the afternoon, we crossed the Karkheh River and continued our journey northwestward through a cultivated land and a number of small villages with scattered houses. Along the way, I saw hundreds of tanks and vehicles, all moving in the same direction as we were going. The entire cultivated area was filled with various detachments of Iraqi forces. The roar of their artillery could be heard from afar, and the closer we got, the louder it became. I realized that we were getting closer to the battlefield. After half an hour, the caravans stopped to rest in a cultivated area full of trees and bushes. I had a severe headache, due to my anxiety and fear and the unevenness of the roads, which did not subside even with painkillers.

To be Continued …