The 360th Night of Memory – 3

Compiled by: Leila Rostami
Translated by: Fazel Shirzad

2024-12-26

Note: The 360th Night of Memory, titled "Memorial of Strange Martyrs in Captivity," was held in the honor of 12 strange martyrs from Tehran Province on September 22^nd of 2204, in the Soura Hall of the Islamic Revolution Art Center. In this program, Colonel Mojtaba Jafari, Mohammad Javad Zomordian, and Engineer Saeed Ohadi shared their memories. The performance of this Night of Remembrance was led by Davood Salehi.

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The third narrator of the program, Eng. Saeed Ohadi, was born in 1957 in Boroujerd. He graduated from the University of Tehran with a degree in engineering. At the age of 19, he received admission to California State University. During the revolution, he abandoned his studies and returned to Iran and joined the people. In the fall of 1979, he returned to the United States to continue his studies. When he returned to Iran for the second time, he went to the front for two consecutive years until he was captured in the preliminary operation Dawn on 7 February 1983. He spent eight years of his life in captivity in Mosul 1 and 4 prisons, Al-Rashid prison and Tikrit 5. He also received news of his brother’s martyrdom in captivity. The narrator shared a memory of a fifteen-year-old prisoner named Mehdi Hajkarami: I was captured in 1983. Mehdi was captured with the Najaf Ashraf division from Khomeinishahr, Isfahan, in a situation where he had been shot in the thigh. They had closed the bleeding site. In the same conditions and with the same bullet in his leg, he entered the Mosul 5 camp under the beatings of the Baathist soldiers. Mehdi’s leg became infected and his body developed a fever. It took almost a month for the Red Cross representatives to notice. One day we noticed that Mehdi was slowly losing his hearing until he completely lost it. He didn’t understand anything and just kept talking.

The Red Cross representatives entered the camp. Since I was familiar with the language, I was their translator. When they saw Mehdi inside the room, they told the doctor with them to quickly transfer him to a room that was simply called the clinic. They took Mehdi there. For the first year or two of captivity, pens and paper were forbidden. The International Committee of the Red Cross representatives said: “Since Mehdi cannot hear, give him pens and paper.” They also coordinated with the Baathist soldiers, and among the prisoners, the only one who had pens and paper was Mehdi. They took a blood test and two days later, when they came back, they said: “Mehdi’s condition is not good and we need to transfer him to Mosul so that he can undergo surgery quickly.” In the same clinic, we went over to Mehdi’s head. The Red Cross representatives were saying this and I was writing to Mehdi. I wrote: “Mahdijan! The Red Cross representatives are saying that you should be taken to Mosul Hospital to undergo surgery so that, God willing, your hearing will return.” I tried to cheer Mehdi up. The narrator added: A fifteen-year-old Basiji youth has been captured in the Mosul camp for a month; he has neither a father nor a mother. Now we are telling him that Mehdijan! They want to take you, alone, to the Mosul military hospital for surgery. Mehdi replied with determination and determination: “No problem. Take him. I am ready.” I translated for the Red Cross representatives. They gave him a piece of paper in English and said: “Mehdi must sign this before being sent to Mosul. This is because an infection has entered Mehdi’s blood and one of his organs may be amputated; his hand, his leg or his eye.” Then I wrote to Mehdi: “Mehdijan! They say that they say, you have to sign this form and give your consent. After all, it’s an operation! It’s a hospital! Something could happen! A part of your body…” They emphasized, “Something could happen to a part of your body.” When Mehdi read the letter, tears slowly rolled down his eyes. The Red Cross representative said, “It’s like you were scared! What did you tell him?! Cheer him up. Tell him that, God forbid, it’s no problem. Nothing will happen.” I wrote to Mehdi again: “Mehdijan! They say, God forbid, you were scared! You are a warrior, a brave man.” With the same tears that were falling from his eyes, Mehdi told me: “Tell them, you are cutting off my hand, cut it off..., you are cutting off my leg, cut it off..., I will sign. But by God! Don’t take my eyes off me.” I translated the same thing for the Red Cross representatives. It was as if they were frozen. What do you mean! Cut off my leg! Cut off my hand! Don’t take my eyes!

They told me: “Ask him why he is so sensitive about his eyes?” I said: “Mehdijan! They say why you are so sensitive about your eyes?!” Mehdi said with tears in his eyes: “By God! When I was in Khomeinishahr, before being sent, I had a dream to see the Imam up close. I want to see my Imam again the day I am freed.” Mehdi agreed and signed. The moment we were in the sanatorium and they took Mehdi, he would walk a few steps, one step at a time, looking at the sanatorium. He would raise his hand and say goodbye to the children. It was as if he knew something was going to happen. They operated on Mehdi. When they returned him to the camp after a week or two, they took him to the same clinic. One morning, when we were at the nursing home and they hadn't yet released us, we saw a piece of blanket brought to the front of the same clinic. The body of our fifteen-year-old Mehdi Hajkarami, who was buried in Mosul at the height of his exile, was not even allowed to bury him. The comrades buried him with tears in their eyes.