Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 24
By Mojtaba al-Hosseini
Translated into Farsi by: Mohammad Hossein Zavar Kabeh
Translated into English by: M.B. Khoshnevisan
2026-04-05
Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 24
By Mojtaba al-Hosseini
Translated into Farsi by: Mohammad Hossein Zavar Kabeh
Translated into English by: M.B. Khoshnevisan
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Of course. Here is the translation from Persian to American English, rendered in a formal, analytical tone suitable for a historical or political context.
***
Joffeir Logistics Center
After spending a week of leave with my family, in early March 1981, I returned to the medical unit located in the village of Joffeir. This village, following the deployment of the support and adjutant units of the 9th and 5th divisions, had turned into a major and extensive military area and a gathering point for Iraqi forces and their vehicles. The village and the roads leading to it, which also hosted our forces, had become a base for delivering ammunition, food, and medical aid to front-line units.
“In that period, two Ba’athist volunteer doctors named First Lieutenant Ra’d and First Lieutenant Dharr joined us. The village of Joffeir, which had once enjoyed safety and tranquility, had now—due to the presence of the base’s air defenses—become a daily target for Iranian aircraft. Iranian army commanders, having obtained intelligence about the new situation in the area, would dispatch their fighter jets daily to bomb the region. Although the aircraft did not bomb residential areas or our ambulances, the fear that nearby units being targeted by Iranian jets might cause the mud houses to collapse on us deprived us of any sense of security and comfort. With the emergence of this dangerous situation, we built reinforced shelters near the mud houses so we could take refuge in them during air raids. The reality is that every living creature—even stray animals—was filled with anxiety and instinctively feared air attacks. Whenever we rushed in panic toward these newly built, sturdy shelters, stray dogs would run after us, howling in fear. We felt that when we were calm, they too found peace, and when we were frightened and anxious, they became terrified. I didn’t know whether to laugh at the situation or cry. I remember that during one air raid, I took shelter in a corner of a trench alongside a frightened dog.”
“That day, as usual, the moment I heard the sound of planes, I ran toward the shelters. At that moment, I was racing with a dog that was running like the wind toward its own trench. In fact, the sense of danger was a shared instinct between us and the animals. The poor creature outran me and entered the trench I had prepared for it beforehand. The Iranian aircraft drew near, and the ear-piercing roar of their dives split the sky. With all my strength, I searched the area left and right for a place, but I didn’t succeed.
I had no choice but to run toward the dog’s designated shelter. From outside, I saw it curled up and trembling with fear. Time was very short. I closed my eyes and went inside. Ignoring its teeth and angry face, I hugged it. At that moment, I would have preferred being bitten by the dog over dying under the airstrike. Apparently, the poor animal understood my situation and allowed me to share its shelter. As soon as the air raid ended, I rushed back to my friends. When I told them the story, they laughed uproariously. The next task was to clean my clothes from the dog’s droppings.”
“Even though danger threatened us constantly in those harsh conditions, jokes and playful banter continued as a natural part of life. Dying on the front had become a simple, everyday matter for everyone, and the meaning of life had lost much of its previous sensitivity in our eyes. Before the war, if we heard that someone had passed away, we would have been deeply saddened—but now, hearing news of death or witnessing it had become a routine part of daily life. Perhaps that was why, to escape this painful reality and soothe our weary and suffering hearts, we joked with one another. Teasing those who were extremely fearful and strongly attached to life had become normal. For this reason, Dr. “Dakhel,” out of simplicity and extreme fear, had joined the group of jokers. I often joked with him. I remember that on one of those days, Dr. Dakhel was sitting on a wooden chair while a barber, with a white cloth draped around his neck, was cutting his hair. At that moment, I was walking toward the water basin carrying a jug. On the way, I noticed an Iraqi MiG aircraft and decided to take the opportunity to joke with Dr. Dakhel. I threw the jug to the ground and shouted loudly: “Phantom plane… Iranian plane!” and ran quickly toward the shelters. Dr. Dakhel, having heard my voice, started running after me at speed, with the white cloth still hanging from his neck and the barber chasing him with scissors in hand. The scene reminded me of a comedy film. When he reached me, he saw that I was hiding and laughing. He realized it had all been a joke. He slapped my shoulder and scolded me harshly. From that day on, that prank became a source of laughter for our unit.”
“In early March 1981, the engineering and road-construction units had nearly completed the asphalt paving of the communication routes between the front and front-line positions, as well as the rear lines and border roads inside Iraqi territory. The army utilized the experience and capabilities of civilian personnel from the Ministry of Roads for constructing roads and bridges. A group of these civilians dismantled the Ahvaz–Khorramshahr railway and used its wood and iron—and even the gravel along the tracks—to build roads and shelters for their own forces. One day, several Iranian combat helicopters attacked a number of trucks and loaders that were carrying out daily operations near the Hamid Garrison. After setting all the trucks and their drivers on fire, the helicopters returned to Iranian territory. At that moment, a few Iraqi planes took off in pursuit, but their efforts were unsuccessful. On another day, while some military workers from the Road Construction Administration of the Anbar province were busy dismantling the railway lines, a bomb explosion killed one driver and injured three workers. In this way, even civilians were not spared from the hazards of war.”
On March 9, 1981, the 11th Field Medical Unit, along with all its personnel and equipment, was relocated to new positions located two kilometers southwest of the Hamid garrison, eleven kilometers northeast of Joffeir, and near the connecting road between the village of Joffeir and the Hamid garrison. The new positions were actually the former station of the 9th Field Medical Unit, which had departed for the Abadan area a month earlier.”
The mud houses of the village of Joffeir were like palaces to us, which we were forced to leave as we moved into a barren, waterless land where mice and insects lived in underground shelters and old trenches. The area was surrounded by several military units, including the headquarters of the 5th Desert Division, the ‘B’ headquarters of the 20th Brigade, Katyusha rocket launch platforms, and the SAM anti-aircraft missile base.
After everyone had gathered, our first task was to clean and prepare our positions. While constructing spaces for the doctors, we built a small trench for rest and a larger underground trench for treating the wounded. Due to the new conditions, unit members worked day and night digging and building the trenches. The construction of the underground treatment facility took one week. This trench was ten meters long, three meters wide, and two meters high. Inside, corridors and rooms were designed to store medicines and equipment and to provide treatment for the injured. The medicines were kept in plastic coverings. By now, we had a clinic and a small dental unit located underground.
To be continued …
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