Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 20
By Mojtaba al-Hosseini
Translated into Farsi by: Mohammad Hossein Zavar Kabeh
Translated into English by: M.B. Khoshnevisan
2026-03-08
Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 20
By Mojtaba al-Hosseini
Translated into Farsi by: Mohammad Hossein Zavar Kabeh
Translated into English by: M.B. Khoshnevisan
***
Of course. Here is the translation from Persian to American English, rendered in a formal, analytical tone suitable for a historical or political context.
***
At 10 a.m. on January 6, 1981, having finished treating the wounded, I was sitting on a chair, waiting and watching. Suddenly, I saw a column of captured Iranian tanks being driven forward by the Baathists. They were ecstatic with joy, but I was deeply moved and angry to see that the Iranians had failed to achieve success in their assault. I asked myself: where is that army and nation that overthrew the Shah?
The deafening roar of our airplanes, constantly flying back and forth, broke my train of thought. I remember that on that day, two of our helicopters were sent on a mission, but on their way back, one of the giant M‑22 helicopters crashed, and its pilot was killed.
Around noon, I returned to the emergency room. A few minutes later, an ambulance arrived carrying three dead and several wounded members of the Jaysh al‑Sha’abi from the Divaniyeh area. After questioning the injured, it became clear that they had been wounded in the city of Hoveyzeh. I asked them, “Is the battle still going on in the city?”
They replied, “No… the reason we were wounded is that when we pulled a belt of ammunition hanging from a window, the house exploded.”
Before retreating, the Iranian forces had mined shops and houses to protect them from Iraqi looting and destruction. However, a few days later, our engineering units cleared the city of mines, inadvertently paving the way for plundering and looting of homes and shops. I saw with my own eyes some soldiers offering stolen electrical appliances and audio equipment for sale at the lowest prices.
That evening, I suddenly remembered our cowardly friend, Ahmed Mufti. I went to see him and found that he had placed his bed inside the bunker. Then I returned to my fellow doctors, who were resting in a clean shelter, and discussed with them how to bring Dr. Ahmed back to our group. I told them, “I’ll bring him back to you.”
They said, “You can’t.”
I replied, “You’ll see!”
I went back to Dr. Ahmed and sat beside him. Night had spread its darkness everywhere. I began talking about yesterday’s battle and made up a story about wild animals, especially wolves. He listened attentively, and as the story went on—so terrifying that he seemed about to faint—he asked, “Are there wolves around here?”
I answered, “Yes, plenty of them!”
He asked, “How so?”
I said, “This area used to be a grazing ground for livestock. You can still smell the scent of sheep in the air.”
He asked, “Is it possible that a wolf might attack me?”
I said, “It’s quite likely, and I can even predict it.”
I ended the conversation, wished him well, and went back to join my friends.
At nine that night, after we had finished dinner, Dr. Ahmed came in. After greeting us and saying good night, he declared, “I’ll sleep here with you.”
Then he called to Abbas, the orderly soldier, and said, “Go and bring all my belongings here!” Abbas rushed off immediately. The doctors were astonished and asked, “Why did you come back? Aren’t you afraid of aerial bombardments?”
He replied, “No. Our fate is the same. Whatever happens to me will happen to you as well.”
At that moment, everyone turned to me and asked, “Doctor, how did you convince him to come back here?”
I answered, “I didn’t convince him.”
They didn't believe me, but after much insistence, I shared the whole story with them. Everyone laughed upon hearing it, and they teased the cowardly doctor until one in the morning.
Sometime later in the night, a large number of troops arrived and occupied the empty mud houses. We went up to them and, after asking around, we realized they were reserve forces gathered from other regions to participate in the attack on Susangerd and the occupation of that city.
At two in the morning, it began to rain. I returned to my bed and laid down with the anticipation of what would happen the next day. The rain continued until dawn.
In the morning, I went to the medical center and saw that water had surrounded the village, and the Iraqi forces had retreated from around Susangerd due to the continuous rain and the mud it created. Thus, God saved this city from the harm of the Ba'athist invasion, and the planned attack to occupy it ended in failure.
At noon, after having lunch, I took seven days of leave and set off for home.
The reality is that the home front was not free from troubles and misfortunes either. These troubles, in whatever form they took, stemmed from the issue of the war and the policies of the regime. A military man would take a few days of leave to be away from the hardships and difficulties of the front line, by the side of his relatives and loved ones, only to realize that arrows of misfortune and disaster were targeting the body of his family from all directions.
I entered my hometown at night. I knocked on the door. My distressed mother opened it. Seeing me, she embraced me with all her warmth. Tears streamed from her eyes. It was as if she could not believe her eldest son had escaped the clutches of death, especially after the battle of Khafajiyeh—as the Ba'athists called it. In my first meeting with the family, I learned of the killing, wounding, and missing of a group of the town's residents. In the morning, I met with the few friends who, like me, were on leave. During my conversation with them, I learned that three of our young friends had been arrested due to their Islamic commitments. I walked around the streets of the city—where few young people were seen—with some of the brothers. Wherever we went, we encountered security forces. Malice and crime poured from their eyes... My God, what disaster has befallen these people?
During every leave, I had to run around for three days to buy oil, gas, and household provisions. In fact, the only thing we couldn't fully enjoy during our leave was rest and comfort. Like other segments of society, I bore the heavy burden of problems and hardships.
The leave ended, but my troubles and mental and spiritual preoccupations were endless. At dawn, after performing the morning prayer, I bid farewell to the self-sacrificing and kind presence of the home, that is, my mother. She also bade me farewell with tearful eyes and a tongue praying for my well-being.
To be continued…
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