An Excerpt from the Memoirs of Commander Mohammad Jafar Asadi

Selected by: Faezeh Sasanikhah
Translated by Kianoush Borzouei

2025-04-16

It was after the meeting that I stood with Asghar Kazemi, the operations officer, and, acting on Rashid’s orders, we set out to locate a site for Fath Headquarters—approximately fifty kilometers from Ahvaz in the direction of Abadan, near a village called Khezriyeh, situated to the east of the Karun River; precisely the region that constituted the operational domain of the Fath Command.

 

A single day—from morning to evening—was sufficient to survey the area and identify a location about five kilometers from the Karun that offered convenient access to the road. The presence of palm groves and a nearby telecommunications tower also ensured both security and communication capabilities. The following day, Rashid came to inspect the area. He quickly approved of the site. However, just as we were notifying a few comrades via radio to commence preparing the base, the rhythmic thump-thump of a helicopter startled us. In no time, a massive dust cloud was stirred up as the aircraft landed—leaving us bewildered at the presence of this metallic beast.

 

Once the dust had settled and the door opened, Mohsen Rezaei emerged. Stooped forward and in haste, he ran toward us. The helicopter had barely touched down when Rashid raised his voice and said, “Agha Mohsen, what brings you here of all places?”

 

Mohsen laughed and replied, “Well, it’s obvious—we’ve chosen this site for the central command headquarters! What are you doing on this land?”

 

I interjected, “Come on! We've spent the past two days combing every inch of this region to find this very spot for Fath Headquarters.”

 

Mohsen chuckled again, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said, “There’s no shortage of land, Brother Asadi!”

 

I looked at Rashid—his hand resting thoughtfully on his beard, his gaze fixed on the helicopter. Then he turned to Mohsen and, with a tone only he could muster, said, “No problem. we’ll gladly step aside.”

 

We weren’t pleased, of course, but there was little we could do. Military protocol dictated that this was the correct course of action—this was no longer our place. Fortunately, we didn’t have to go far; just a few kilometers away, we found another location, perhaps even more suitable than the previous one. I told Rashid, “We better move quickly before someone else lays claim to this one!”

 

The engineering teams had the new base up and running in less than a week. The access road was now clearly defined, the communications tower had been erected, logistics and artillery units had set up their equipment, and the command bunker was fully prepared for meetings with the combat units.

 

From the 6th of April 1982, when we became fully established, until the night of the 30th of April, when the operation commenced, our daily routine involved visits to the central headquarters followed by strategic meetings with the commanders of the IRGC’s 14th Imam Hossein Division, the 8th Najaf Division, and the 25th Karbala Division, as well as the Army’s 92nd Armored Division, 37th Brigade, and 55th Airborne Brigade. In line with the master battle plan, it was decided that on the night of April 30, pontoon bridges would be installed across the Karun River at three locations: one within our zone at Fath Headquarters; another in the area under Nasr Headquarters, which was to our right; and a third between the two command zones. Colonel Niaki, the commander of the 92nd Armored Division and Rashid’s deputy at the base, brought the Daghaqaleh Battalion to the front to handle the bridge installation.^[1]

 

The matter of installing the pontoon bridges—known as “PMPs”—is a lengthy tale in itself, worthy of a book. That, however, is a task for the military to document. Suffice it to say, it was my first time witnessing up close how several modular sections, called surface units, could be connected to form a bridge spanning 200 to 300 meters—all within just one to two hours.

On the opposite bank, the Iraqis had deliberately flooded the terrain, turning it into a swamp, while establishing a defensive line resembling border outposts with support troops. Their main units were positioned about seven kilometers from the river behind an incomplete embankment, which they never managed to finish due to our impending assault.

 

We carefully selected the bridge installation sites to avoid Iraqi presence on the opposite bank and to ensure minimal interference from swampy terrain when crossing the river. Reconnaissance teams had already resolved much of this logistical challenge in advance.

 

With the aid of massive KRAZ military trucks and under a tightly coordinated and covert operation designed to evade the eyes of both the enemy and any fifth column elements, army units transported 1,200 meters' worth of pontoon sections from northern Khuzestan to the eastern bank of the Karun—a journey of approximately 250 kilometers. The segments were disguised along the riverbanks. These units were neither new nor pristine; they underwent repairs and restoration at army depots and later along the Karun’s shores to render them operational.

 

On the night of the operation, under cover of darkness, army officers and soldiers sprang into action and swiftly installed the bridges.

 

As I mentioned earlier, PMP bridges were made of modular surface units. Each vehicle brought a three-layered unit to the riverbank. Once the truck was aligned with the slope of the river, releasing the safety latch would deploy the segment into the water, unfolding its layers. As the second unit arrived, a few men would leap onto the sections and, using metal pins in hand, securely fasten the segments together.

Army engineers diligently supervised the entire process to ensure everything proceeded in accordance with the initial assessments. The linking of the pontoon units continued steadily until, after approximately an hour and a half, a 250-meter-long bridge was fully assembled. At that point, however, the bridge still lay parallel to the riverbank, not across the water.

 

Upon receiving the final command from the engineers, several men boarded a boat, secured the bridge’s leading edge, and guided it across the river. The current worked in their favor, swiftly carrying the bridge to the opposite bank, where another team awaited to lock it in place. Once the bridge was secured, a number of men positioned themselves at its midpoint and fastened thick steel tow cables to its structure, pulling them toward the riverbank to prevent the flow of water from snapping the bridge’s spine.

 

Now the bridge was fully operational—capable of bearing loads of up to sixty tons, enabling even tank-carrying trailers to travel over it. Precisely one hour before the operation began, the bridges were in place. Yet this was far from the end of the army's tireless efforts.

 

Throughout the month the bridges spanned the Karun, Iraqi warplanes launched daily bombing raids in an effort to destroy them—unaware that we only used the bridges under the cover of darkness. At dawn, we would pull them back to our side of the river with the help of tow cables and conceal them within the dense natural foliage along the Karun’s banks. Thanks to this strategy, the Iraqis never succeeded in damaging the bridges during the entire course of the operation.

 

In essence, to catch the Iraqis off guard and to ensure our units were battle-ready, everyone joined forces, forgoing sleep and sustenance for an entire month, so that we would be fully prepared when the night of Operation Beit-ol-Moqaddas arrived.^[2]

 
Number of Visits: 100

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