Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 34
2026-06-14
Third Regiment: Memoirs of an Iraqi Prisoner of War Doctor – 34
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.
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Captain Salam:
He was an officer of Kurdish origin, a native of Baghdad serving as an intelligence officer in the regiment. The job of the intelligence section was essentially to spy on military personnel on behalf of the regime and gather information about the enemy. The common traits of intelligence officers were ruthlessness, violence, and mistreatment. However, Captain Salam, in addition to possessing all these characteristics, was extremely cowardly and was known as one of the most infamous cowards in the regiment. This very fact caused him to harass and torment the regiment’s personnel. Whenever I went to the regiment headquarters, I would see him hiding in his bunker. I used to think to myself: maybe his job requires him to stay out of the public eye. But over time, I realized he was afraid even of his own shadow, and at the first sound of an artillery shell or the first noise of a mortar—even from a distance—he would rush to take cover in his bunker. Even though he was an intelligence officer and the regiment’s personnel feared him, he was not safe from the ridicule and mockery of the soldiers, who had come to understand the true nature of their officers. When he went on leave, the soldiers would collect shrapnel from all over the headquarters grounds and scatter it around his bunker, making it look as though the area had been heavily shelled. When Captain Salam returned and saw the shrapnel around his bunker, the soldiers would say to him: "Sir, you were lucky!"
He would ask, "How?"
The soldiers would say, "While you were absent, our positions came under heavy fire, and you are now seeing the aftermath of that shelling."
This naive, cowardly man would believe them. He would retreat into the corner of his bunker and come out only a few times a day to relieve himself. In this way, the soldiers took their revenge on him and limited his activities. Having understood this man's situation and character, I decided to distance myself from him as much as possible. Interestingly, because of his intense fear and his dread of getting injured, he always needed me around and would show me affection, but I disliked being around him.
Captain Muhammad Zia al-Sahaf:
He was an officer who had graduated from special courses established by the Ba'athists after their accursed coup for party members. He was the brother of "Muhammad Saeed al-Sahaf," the former director of Iraqi radio and television. He was in command of the first company of our regiment, and also served as the regiment's party official. Captain Zia was forty years old but had never married. He spent his life engaged in depravity, drinking wine, taking bribes, and embezzling people's property. The captain was connected to the commander of the 33rd Special Forces Brigade stationed in Khorramshahr. Consequently, during his frequent visits to that city, he looted the belongings and furnishings of Khorramshahr's residents, including electrical appliances and valuable items, and transferred many of them to his own home. He even distributed several television sets among the personnel of our regiment. I always kept my distance from him. Although he tried several times to get close to me, he never succeeded. Whenever I went to the frontline companies to check on the physical condition of the personnel, I would see soldiers serving him like obedient slaves, with rings in their ears. Next to his bunker, there was a small cage containing a few chickens and roosters. His avarice and baseness were such that he would not turn down even the gifts of naive soldiers — not even a single cigarette. Many stories were told about him, and here I will mention the incident of the watermelon plant — on which he had written his name.
At the end of summer, the stream that ran in front of the regiment gradually dried up, and since the area was agricultural, watermelon plants grew and bore fruit. Every night, the soldiers would pick the watermelons and supply them to the regiment headquarters. Those watermelons were very delicious. So Captain Muhammad Zia ordered his soldiers to write his name on the watermelon plant in front of his company so that soldiers from other companies would not tamper with it. Every day, he would pick a watermelon from that plant and eat it, and none of the regiment's personnel dared to take any of it.
Captain Muhammad stole a pickup truck belonging to the civilian residents of Khorramshahr in the early days of the war. To cover his tracks, he wrote the name "National Oil Company" on it and used it for his own personal purposes at the front. One day, while he was present at the 20th Brigade headquarters, the commander of the 5th Division, Brigadier General Staff Salah Qazi, arrived to inspect the brigade headquarters and accidentally came across that pickup truck. After an investigation, he discovered that the vehicle had been stolen from Iranian civilians and was being used for personal purposes, whereas it should have been handed over to the army. The brigadier general summoned Captain Muhammad Zia and rebuked him harshly. He ordered that the captain be referred to a military court. According to army regulations, he should have been sentenced to eleven years in prison, but due to the influence and position of his brother, he was sentenced to only three months in prison, and he spent the entire term in his room at the regiment headquarters in Basra. Although I went to the regiment headquarters in Basra several times during that period, I did not visit him. Eventually, I received a reproachful message from him asking: "Doctor, why did you not come to see me?"
One day, fearing that his mischief might eventually cause trouble for me, I went to visit him. I saw that he had turned his private room into an exhibition. In truth, it was not a room but a museum filled with valuable items and household furnishings, all of which he had stolen from the homes of the innocent residents of Khorramshahr. After his sentence ended, to save face, he was transferred to the 55th Mechanized Brigade.
Captain Ibrahim:
He was an officer who had graduated from special courses and had been expelled from the ranks of the Ba'ath Party. He was in command of the regiment headquarters company. His job was to supervise the construction of the permanent headquarters of the 3rd Regiment of the 20th Brigade in Basra. His notable traits were cunning, disregard for army regulations, constant evasion of duty, and having dealings with some merchants in Basra. From time to time, he would come to me as a patient suffering from joint pain. It was through this that I became acquainted with him.
He used his position as regimental commander to fulfill his demands, while in return providing services to the regiment. Under the pretext of securing the regiment's needs, he benefited from extended leaves. With particular cunning, he procured a water tanker from the Basra municipality and four new jeeps from high-ranking officers in Baghdad—with whom he had connections—for the regiment. Here, I will mention two incidents concerning him. One day, I went to the permanent headquarters to secure some supplies. The regimental commander asked me to record the names of the personnel present at the regiment. During the headcount, I noticed that one of the soldiers was absent. On my way back to the front lines, I entered the regiment's administrative section to rest a bit. At that moment, Captain Ibrahim came in and greeted me very warmly. He then asked about the headcount and requested that I not mention that soldier's absence to the regimental commander. I said to him, "If you do not inform me of the matter, I will notify the regimental commander."
After much insistence, he told me: "This soldier has a pickup truck at his disposal, with which he transports sand and gravel for the construction of the support barracks, and I, on behalf of the army, am cooperating with the project contractor."
I realized that this soldier, in exchange for getting leave, was providing these materials to the army for free, and Captain Ibrahim was crediting them to the army's account while pocketing hundreds of dinars every month.
One day, when he was heading to Najaf to take leave, he asked me to accompany him. We set out from Basra toward Najaf. Near the city of Nasiriyah, we stopped for dinner at a roadside restaurant. The restaurant owner welcomed us and brought two trays full of fish. After dinner, Captain Ibrahim called him over to his fancy car. He opened the trunk and gave him a carton of Rothmans cigarettes along with several sets of foreign military underwear. These clothes were actually the rations meant for the unfortunate soldiers fighting at the front—rations that officers stole to use for their own personal purposes.
This person owned a magnificent house in the best residential area of Najaf and was involved in numerous business deals. He, who had once been a simple-minded villager, was now considered one of the junior officers of the army.
To be continued …
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